A Game of Magic
by ColonelChips
Summary: Harry did not intend to play these lord's games as people suffered. He was given a new chance, to be a nobody as he always wanted, but he could not ignore the suffering about him. So he would show them the power of change, of invention and, if necessary, of magic.
1. Chapter 1: West Of Terra

**First fic, hope you enjoy. The first section is to introduce a new Harry that I feel is necessary for the story, mostly he is just a more applied determined character. Well not much to say really, on with the story.**

**Chapter 1: West of Terra**

Harry Potter stared down at the elder wand, gripping it tightly between his hands. The battle had been won and this was his prize, a wand. His friends, no, his family, for a wand.

Legend told that it was the most powerful wand in existence. Harry didn't believe it. He had studied wand lore and crafting in Ancient Runes, Arithmancy and in the library late at night and had come to one conclusion, wands didn't matter. They were just tools; some seemingly more unique wands resonated with the more powerful of his kind but really, what came first, the wizard or the wand. In the end, it was always the wizard who was more powerful, regardless of their wand, this wand just happened to change its allegiance to whatever wizard was more powerful until eventually, in this legend, the wand came first, the most powerful wand in the world.

Power had been everything to Harry once, a need born in his time under the stairs. He had wanted freedom above all other things, the ability to choose his own path, the opiate of the oppressed. He soon reasoned that his captivity was caused by his weakness and his dependence on the Dursleys and his oppression caused by his Uncles power. So power in whatever its form was freedom. Knowledge was power, as was might and wealth each flowing into each other as one is acquired, but he had none of these. He did not have the means to be wealthy, nor the build to be strong, so knowledge would be the answer.

So he learnt, stayed back after school and read, blaming detention to keep his Uncle satisfied that he was being set straight. He read about everything, first maths and english to seek understanding, then science and philosophy, history and economics. He pursued every subject he was able to. Some he was unable to fully grasp but he pushed forward until he did. He ever displayed this learning though, not to anyone. Knowledge was power.

Then he arrived in the magical world, a place of wonder and bigotry. Harry had been amazed at the secret society and how...lacking it was. With so much wonder available at their fingertips and the arrogance of their position compared to muggles, Harry found it amazing that they acted no better, and perhaps worse, than their fellow humans they held below them. The magical community was dying in its complacency too. Where muggles forged forwards wizards stood still. Monopolistic businesses such as Gringotts feeding stagnation and a government uninterested in enacting genuine social or economic change.

And Hogwarts was its root. As segregated as the society it educated and a muggles study and history course ensuring that the young witches and wizards were none-the-wiser to their stagnation as a society. The hat gave Harry a choice, he could go anywhere, but in the end he had chosen Ravenclaw. So he pursued his studies in Hogwarts with the same gusto as before, excelling amongst his class mates without Vernon looking over his shoulder and had an adventure here or there to boot. Saving the Philosopher's Stone, the Weasley girl, his godfather, the list went on. In the end he hadn't been strong enough to stop Tom's resurrection and so he found out he had to pursue the great pretender's end.

The hunt for the Horcrux with his friend Hermione had been a riot, finding Umbridge's house and taking the necklace. Breaking into Gringotts through the creation of an immense rune array about the alley and suspending it in time. Finding the diadem in the room of requirement. Harry had found them all. Then he found out from Dumbledore's memories that Harry had been one, but when he had been skewered by the damn great snake below Hogwarts it had been destroyed, Dumbledore's plan to sacrifice him would have to be redressed.

So he turned to his mother. Her master ship of runes had saved him from Tom's wrath and the killing curse once before. Harry had found her books in Godric's Hollow, found how she had saved his life by linking theirs. It was masterful. It was wrong. So Harry took the diadem and it's soul fragment. Constructed a new rune array based on her theory and went to face him.

Hermione followed to her doom but she took the snake with her. As his Nagini died Tom flew in to a rage. Casting curse after curse at Harry. Harry took it all until he saw one he wanted. A killing curse. Harry threw the Diadem into the curse and Tom screamed. He crunched over, screaming for someone to save him. Nobody moved. The purebloods would abide by their customs, stopping them from interfering in a duel. Then they fled and Tom was alone, smoke curling from his body. Harry picked up the prize he now held in his had and took Hermione back to the castle she called home.

Sirius Black.

Remus Lupin.

Nymphadora Lupin.

Fred Weasley.

Hermione Granger.

And so many more. All his family. All taken by this world, this world that had not changed after the last war, or the one before that and would not change after this one.

Harry was done with it, this cursed place. There was nobody to miss him anyway. He would leave to the muggle world, or to exile to whittle away his family's fortune.

But first, his prize, the Elder Wand. Harry gripped it hard and slowly it bent, not going quietly into the night. Then a crack, the wood fracturing to splinters, and then the world went black.

-Break-

The first feeling he felt as time and space, light and thought returned to him was that it was cold. His entire body was cold. Colder than he had ever been in his life. The cold consumed his being so fully that he didn't feel that he was wet, or that he was almost naked except for the cloak still tied about his neck. Harry slowly opened his eyes, it was so bright, as though he had just woke up. He pushed himself up slowly, squinting against the light only for his arms to collapse into the snow, planting his face firmly in it also. His body shook with the cold and effort.

He rolled himself over instead, laying on the cloak to separate his body from the snow. The cloak provided more protection then you would expect by looking at it. Then again, Harry thought, what do you expect from a Deathly Hallow. Harry looked about, his eyes finally adjusting to the sunshine made worse by the snow. He was in a clearing of a pine forest buried in snow. It was a sunny day today but he didn't expect that would remain the case judging by the clouds in the distance. It was all very odd though, because he knew that this sort of temperate pine forest was only really found in the northern hemisphere, and it was meant to be summer.

He looked about and found the two pieces of the elder wand nearby, along with the Resurrection Stone. He picked them up and felt a little better for having them, though would have preferred some clothes.

A low growl sounded behind him. Then the sound of crunching snow. Harry rolled to the left toward the broken wand and a ball of fur landed hard where he had been sitting not long ago. The wolf turned on him but struggled to move in the deep snow after missing its prey. Harry scrambled and grasped one end of the Elder Wand. He turned just as the wolf pounced again. They fell in a heap of curses and snapping jaws. Harry grasped the canine by the neck holding its teeth from ending its life. He swing wildly with the wand and stabbed the wolf in the neck, blood poured from the wound down its fur and dripped onto his face, blurring his vision to red. The beast struggled against its fate, trying to end his life perhaps in hope that it would not die. But as it struggled it grew weaker until, with a sad whine, it collapsed onto the red stained snow.

Harry pushed the wolf from him and wiped away the blood from his face. A man on a horse was approaching.

"You armed boy?" Called the man as he cautiously rode closer. Harry could see him now. A man with a black beard and hair to his shoulders, maybe 30 years old but still too far to make out the detail of his face. He was dressed in furs and chainmail, a sword held in one had lain across the saddle, ready to use. The horse was a chestnut brown and looked strong as it pushed through the snow, laden with some saddle bags. Harry stared at the man, who had now come to a stop a few feet from the boy-who-lived. 'Chainmail and furs' the boy thought 'nobody wears chainmail or fur any more, except as decoration, not even in the antiquated magical world.'

"You deaf boy?" The man called again. Harry shook his head in response.

"I'm not armed." He finally responded, finding his voice. "Unless you count this stick." He held up the broken wand to show the man.

"Well, isn't this a sight. Old Cid here-" Harry didn't think the man was that old, especially not in comparison to some wizards Harry had met. "-is just ridin about, Out on his daily patrol, and what do I come across but some scrawny runt, naked, fighting a wolf, naked, in the middle of winter...naked." He pointed out again. Harry shivered from the cold.

"I was robbed." He replied, the best excuse he could think of.

"Aye robbed you say. Took everything but yer flimsy cloak, some cruel robbers you met then, leaving someone naked during a winter. Would have been more merciful to just kill you out right." Harry picked up on an odd phrase in this. What did the man mean 'A' winter.

"I had to beg for the cloak too." Harry agreed. The man then looked about, first at the wold, then the stick and then the Resurrection Stone in the snow. The man's demeanour changed instantly, his eye narrowing and sat more upright in his saddle.

"Did you have to beg to keep that there stone too boy?" He asked, using his sword to point at the stone. Harry shifted his body in a defensive way and looked at the man.

"That stone is of no use to you. You could sell it, I'm sure, and get an okay price. But you will never know for how cheaply you sold it." Harry replied, determined to argue the man out of what Harry knew he would do anyway.

"Oh really, but I could sell it anyway, and have more than I had before. Seems I have little to lose."

"Except your life." He replied, with confidence he did not have. Harry may have been of the opinion that wands were not necessary to the use of magic but rather were a crutch to less focused individuals but this was not how Harry wanted to learn if he was right. He couldn't put his faith in an untested theory. So he would rely on one of the only pieces of magic he knew he could do wandlessly.

"So be it then." The man spurred his mount forward. It was slow in the snow but it still began to close quickly. The man lifted his sword. Harry spun where he stood and with an explosion of sound and eyes clenched tight he disappeared. The horse reared in fear at the noise and a naked youth apeared above the mounted warrior, falling at him fast. In surprise the man could do nothing and for the second time that Harry and an attacker collided together, flying through the air, to land in the snow. The man hit the ground first, Harry painfully landing on top of him, his skin greeting on the chain and then rolled off into the snow. He lay there for a second, snow falling on top of him lightly, blown into the air by their landing. A grown interrupted his rest.

Harry turned to face the man. He had landed in an awkward position, his chest pushed up into the air. Harry looked beneath him; the man had landed on a stone. Quickly grabbing the man's sword Harry moved to stand over the man, but not too close.

"Seems you were right boy, I can't feel my legs. It is winter and I cannot move from this spot, my life for a stone." The man coughed hard, he had probably broken his spine and maybe some ribs. Harry went over and picked up the stone. "I should have known better, a naked boy in the middle of winter, should have known it'd be some kind of demon."

"I'm no demon, I can just do things you can't, I was born to a man and woman, just like you." Harry approached the man again, with his sword still in hand. "So, it seems you have a choice to make now. Say I can save you, what would you do?"

"You can save me?" The man asked, though no hope entered his query.

"Maybe, though I may accidentally kill you too, then again, without my attempt you are dead any way. So, what will you do?" Harry was getting colder and he wanted to test his theory out before he tried a warming charm on himself.

"You save me, and I suppose I'll be your man. I'll not be yer slave, but I'll help you, till I've worked off my debt." The man sounded sincere and Harry really had no way of testing him until he was healed.

"Very well then...Cid was it? Let's get this started." Harry palmed the Resurrection Stone and held his hands just above the man. He closed his eyes and sought the magic within himself. Without a wand to help shape the spells he needed and with time not on his side Harry planned to use the stone as a catylist, a focus to draw and channel his magic. It worked better than expected, it was still no wand but Harry could make up for it and so increased the power of the spells, he focused as he weaved them one after another, his intent, rather than incantations, driving his magic into Cid. Bone and sinew, tendons and tissue all wove themselves back together under his magic's guidance.

When it was done Harry slumped back onto the snow and cloak. Cid sat up, twisting his body and moving his legs experimentally. He looked at them like they had never existed before.

"You saved me." He whispered quietly.

"I did, as I said, the stone is better in my hands than being sold as cheaply as you would have." Harry replied, pushing the item about in his palm.

"So, not a demon then, what are you? A wood nymph? An avatar of the Seven?" Harry didn't really know what the man was talking about but left it for now.

"A human, as I said, I can just do things. But look, if you aren't going to stick around willingly just give me some clothes and food as payment and point me in the direction of the nearest town." Harry was slowly getting annoyed with the superstitious man. He had come to assume that the man was a muggle, not a hard assumption, but also one who had lived a sheltered life.

"No, no, I have a debt to settle, given under the watch of the Seven. Not something I can dismiss lightly. Plus, if you can 'do things' which I have no doubt about, then it might be profitable to stick with ya, fortuitous even." The man grinned then at Harry, who was taken aback by the man's dental health. Cid then started walking to his horse which had moved some way off during the fight. "First things first though, I guess you'll be wanting some clothes." Harry was inclined to agree and followed after him. "What is it you are wanting to do anyway?"

"I suppose I need to find out where I am first, and then I guess I should try find a way home." The horse shied away as they approached. Cid reached out a hand to comfort the animal and then snatched the reigns.

"Aye, well I can help with that, I have some maps on me to help with the patrol. Old man Moore's kid got killed a few weeks back by some thieves, now he's got paid men looking through all these woods, in the dead of winter if you can believe it." Harry didn't really know what the big deal was with winter. "This was the last area I been paid to check, you didn't see anyone did you?" Harry shook his head. "Well, don't matter, I get paid anyway." Cid pulled out some clothing and threw them at Harry. They were much too large and didn't help much but Harry covertly cast a warming charm on himself as he put them on. The man then brought out some maps.

The first were some mostly forested areas with one or two towns Harry had never heard of before. Cid pointed to a spot in the forest, presumably that was where they were, somewhere called the Vale, a large mountainous peninsula. Harry then pulled some of the other maps out and was confronted with a land mass he did not recognise.

"What year is it?" He asked, transfixed to the maps.

"287, why?" Harry shook his head and just stared at the map. The elder wand had taken him from his world. There were no continents like this one on earth. Here he was, no food, no money and no wand on a new world. He had some Deathly Hallows, though one was useless now, and at least they spoke and wrote in english, so at least that was going for him. He sat there contemplating for some time, Cid watching him quietly, and then he came to a conclusion that, he didn't much care. With Voldemort defeated and so many of his family dead, there hadn't been much for him on Earth. Here he could be Harry Potter, the nobody or the somebody, it didn't matter, he was free to choose his path and in a world potentially without magic he had some advantages too. Harry, for the first time in a while, smiled.

"Cid, I think I'm going to like it here." Harry then looked at the man who was looking at him steadily. "Is it just Cid? No last name?"

"What do I look like boy? Some snivelling lord with a nice fancy castle and worlds that I like saying over and over to any who'll listen." Harry guessed he still had a lot to learn about his new life. "What's your name then boy."

"Harry." He looked down at the stone in his hand and decided that perhaps Potter wasn't right for this world. "Harry Peverell."

"Never heard of it. Peverell." Cid seemed to think on it for a moment. "Nope, never heard of em."

"We were a small family to the north; don't think you'll ever read about us in books. But we fell on hard times and then lost everything in an attack." Harry did his best to sound sad about his concocted family history. "We tried to stay hidden because of our...gifts. But the people turned on us eventually."

"Aye" Cid nodded in agreement. "People'll do that. You got words, a family motto?" Harry considered this for a time, trying to understand what he meant while masking his confusion as sadness.

"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death." Then Harry traced the symbol for the Deathly Hallows in the snow, a circle in a triangle bisected by a line.

"Sounds about right for a family of the North." Cid then stood up and turned his horse. "Well little naked lord, we'd best be off, it'll be dark soon and even with your talents I don't much wish to be here when it begins snowing." Harry agreed and they both climbed onto the horse.

So it was that the Peverell family was made and Harry Potter's life began again.


	2. Chapter 2: Lordships Are Bought Not Ear

A house keeping thing first. Margaery if kept the same age as the books will be significantly younger than Harry. For the story I wan't I like her as the one to catch Harry's eye and as such I aim to have her the age she is in the show, I think that will put her around 22 (original age 16) at her wedding to Renly and by my calculations Harry will be about 28 by then (not exactly getting on in years for a wizard). Her original age probably wouldn't be an issue for people from the ASOIAF universe but probably would be for Harry. I apologise if I have my lore wrong in any way. Anyway hope you enjoy.

**Lordships Are Bought Not Earned**

Harry and Cid rode through the forest in discomfort. There wasn't much room between Harry, Cid and the wolf carcus strapped to the back that they had picked up on the way. Cid intended to skin and sell it for him, for a portion of the takings of course. Harry didn't really know how to go about any of those tasks anyway and probably would have just left it to rot.

The forest came to an end after about a half hour, it had started to snow as they rode and light was becoming more scarce but Harry could still clearly make out the valley bellow.

"The Valley of Moore." Remarked the rider as they left the tree. A river bisected the valley though it didn't seem particularly wide and was difficult to make out except for the absence of snow. There was a village not too far away and about five others hugging the river, obvious in the dusk due to their fires. The river met the sea near the horizon, Harry could only just make out the water due to the reflection of the sunset behind them. The second town from the sea also bore a large structure but as the sun set Harry struggled to make out anything besides it's size and walls. It was not a particularly large castle, more a fort really, though he was sure it would be more comfortable than a house if the close by township was anything to go by. "And that there is Brooksvale. Our new home till winter passes."

The town was small, about thirty houses all up, some wooden some stone with thatched roofs, all no doubt drafty. The larges building was in the center, Harry assumed it was the town hall. It was a quaint little place, quiet no doubt, and possibly very boring.

"Listen boy." Started Cid. "Ye might have powers n all that, but they don' mean squat durin' winter. We need a roof over our heads, a fire to keep us warm and food in our bellies. Nothin' else matters till the spring melt, which means we have to earn our keep." Harry understood this, this world was not like his, winter didn't mean much with the ability to heat houses, transport food all over the world and easy movement. Here the winter time was isolating, with no mobility or comfort the towns would have to bunker down with what resources they had and wait it out.

"How long off do you think that is?" Harry asked the man.

"Not sure, hasn't really been a long winter so far, so maybe another year or two. Heard old man Moore's Maester thinks we are at the peak now." A year or two, the words bounced inside Harry's can a winter go on for years, it made no sense in all the laws of planetary movement Harry understood. How long would summer be? And how are they unable to forecast better than a year or more, were they not regular? Too many questions and Harry knew that asking them now would reveal how little he knew of this world, more than he already had anyway.

"So what am I going to do for work till then?"

"Well, you're in luck, the smith here in Brooksvale needs help, his apprentice died of the cold a years pass, I'm sure he will welcome an extra set of hands." Harry didn't exactly relish the idea of physical labour but he didn't have a whole lot of options, he didn't even know anywhere on this world he would be able to apparate to, let alone somewhere worth apparating to, maybe somewhere warm.

"I don't know how much help I will be but I guess I don't have much choice. I am rather hungry." The man in front of Harry grinned over his shoulder as they entered the town.

It really didn't look like much and Harry had trouble really getting a feel for Brooksvale under all the snow. He could make out a watermill on the far side, it's big wheel stationary, likely frozen. The central building was two stories and the only other large building in the town and it was flanked on either side by what looked like a warehouse and the forge. There was nobody in the streets. Harry and Cid reached the forge and dismounted.

Made up of three buildings in total the place that was to hopefully be Harry's new home for the forseeable future was not something to write home about. The workshop faced the street and seemed to be the best kept building of the three. It was mostly a wooden structure supported but a stone foundation and was dominated by the large kiln to the left, glowing brightly and keeping the snow at bay. The other two buildings were a stone house half buried in snow, Harry couldn't see any windows, and a rickety empty stable filled with straw and what looked to be supplies for the forge.

As they approached the blacksmith looked up from his work. He was an old man, bald, with a bushy beard that looked to be grey if not for the black soot covering it. He was a well built man, which Harry assumed was to be expected for a man of his occupation. The man dropped the piece of metal he had been working on into a bucket of water and dusted off his hands.

"Alright Cid. What's the word, this one of those thieves you were out in the snows for?" The man nodded his head at Harry in question. Cid shook his head.

"Nah, didn't see anything of those two. My guess is they either dead or the snows covered their run. Either way not much I can do now. I found this brat while I was out there though, lost he was. Name's Harry. Harry, this here is Emeric." Harry smiled in greeting and the smith replied by eyeing him up and down critically. "Harry here is in need of work till winter's break."

"Bit scrawny to be of much use to me." Replied the smith, looking back at Cid. "You done any of this work before boy?" Harry shook his head and Cid chuckled.

"Aye he's a bit scrawny but you ain't exactly got people linin' up to help ye now do you." The smith grumbled an agreement then turned to Harry, giving him another look before gesturing for him to follow him into the forge. Cid grinned again. "I guess I'll go deal with this skin. Have fun boy, I'll see you in a week or two." Harry nodded and followed the smith into the building.

"Alright then boy, you'll be sleeping in the stable, now lets get to work." Harry could already tell this was a no-nonsense man. "You're on the bellows till I say otherwise."

Harry nodded mutely and got to work.

-6 Months Later-

Snow crunched beneath his feet as Harry carefully stalked through the snow. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered walking with such a posture, the charms he had cast on himself plus his cloak guaranteed that his prey would not notice him. He had been out in the forest for some time already but had not come across any game at all. It was snowing heavily and he supposed that was probably the cause for his failures but it was still frustrating. Ever since he started hunting in the forests outside the village he had usually found something to bring back to the village, to sell and eat. The villages had no idea how he was able to hunt in the snow storms of winter in the Vale, but Cid was happy for the extra coin.

He had been doing this on his day off from the forge every week fore the last few months, or moons as the locals called them, ever since Cid had shown him how much coin he could get from a fur. In not so many words Cid had said it was a good price at the moment because of the demand caused by winter and also the reduced supply as it was also more difficult to hunt. So Harry had continued to hunt to help fund his projects and help the village eat as well.

When he first started his time in the forge had been particularly difficult for Harry. His body was not used to such physical labour so he would often go to bed sore all over. After the very first day, and a few hours on the bellows, he had returned to the forge after Emeric had finished for the day and carved a rune array on the bottom of the bellows. It was a simple array based off the bubble head charm, converting all the gases which entered the bellows to oxygen. The next day was much easier, and it allowed for Harry to spend more time learning from the old smith. Over time though Harry found his body had stopped being sore and he noticed muscles growing that he didn't even know he had.

When Cid returned Harry put the gold he brought to use almost immediately. He bought some wood and iron to make a trunk. He built it with his own hands and was quite proud of the poorly constructed container. He then enchanted the trunk to hold pocket dimensional space, big enough to fit several pieces of furniture such as his poorly hand made table, all fourth year stuff and it was easy but essential. He knew that if he was going to have other magical objects that it would become too obvious in this muggle inhabited world. He had learned that magic had once been common here but that it had almost disappeared to myth, it would not benefit him to reveal his abilities too easily. So he had to hide them.

The last of his magical projects was a silver Pensieve. He had made one before, in his sixth year as his final project for runes. He had had a lot of experience with Pensieves that year and so recreating the runes had not been as hard as the professor seemed to think. The silver he had acquired had not been as pure as he would have liked but it was good enough for the enchantment.

Harry stopped as a deer suddenly bounded into view. Harry moved slowly out of habit rather than need. He drew the stone from his pocket and pointed at the deer. A red jet of light exploded from his hand and hit the animal in it's flank, dropping it in a flurry of snow flakes. Harry approached the animal, bent down, and cut it's throat like Cid had shown him. It had been difficult for him at first, killing the animals, but then he had realised that in this world he would probably have to kill people too, and killing the animals slowly got easier, Harry wondered if it would be the same if they could talk back, beg for their lives.

Westeros, he had realised, was a violent place. The people here had developed a brutal culture of the strong lords living off the hard labour of their serfs. The serfs found stability from the ultimate authority of the lords and king. The lords cared little for the serfs though, caring only for their own struggles and ambitions. This had lead to a grossly unequal society, where many lords viewed the 'small folk' as less than them, beneath their notice, or in some terrible cases, their play things, to do with as they will. The lack of caring extended to the way the small folk treating each other, clan rivalries, need and hunger, greed, it didn't matter, people killed for the smallest of reasons. The people didn't value their own or other's lives because their lords valued them so little as well.

This lack of value was the problem Harry wanted to address. In his mind this was a immense failing by all the people in charge. The environment created enough challenges without people fighting each other rather than working together to maximize their potential. This was why whore houses and orphans where so common as well, the dis-empowerment of the dispossessed and at the end a complete lack of opportunity for all except the exclusive few.

That was the reason for his most recent project. With the help of his Pensieve he began reviewing his nights at the library, pulling out memories that were useful to him. The first was about inventions, specifically the printing press. Through a process of review he was able to sketch out the designs required and then solicited Emeric's help. It wasn't finished yet but they were getting close. Once it was done he intended on putting together manuals on reading and mathematics to start teaching the children of the village then putting together more advanced books from his memories. Education was what these people lack, to be educated is to have opportunity, to be able to do different jobs of your choice, the mobility of labour. It was not the only thing they lacked, not the only change that would help them, but it was a start.

-6 Months Later-

It was almost night when a rider rode into town from the south. He seemed in a hurry and Harry grabbed the horse as it came to a stop at the forge.

"Emeric! Emeric!" The man called not even glancing at Harry. The old smith appeared from out behind the stables and approached the rider. By now other people of the village began appearing to see what the commotion was. A number of kids were chattering excitedly back near the forge where Harry had been going through arithmetic with them. The kids didn't exactly like the lessons but the adults did, getting the kids out of their hair. Winters had always been particularly difficult for the parents of Westeros. Harry had begun teaching the village a few months ago with the help of a few books he had been able to put together using the press. Paper and ink was not cheap though so they had to ration their use and it was slow going. All the villages had appreciated it though, Harry had never thought much about the pride someone could have about learning such a basic skill in the world he was brought up in until he had met these people. The simple ability to read and do sums was considered a priveldge here, rather than an expectation.

"What's the ruckus over here?" Growled the smith, but then appeared surprised when he looked at the man. "Lincoln? What are you doing here in this weather?"

"Emeric, Moore is dead, two days now, of the cold and age the Maester said. But with his eldest dead and Mandon a kingsguard he has left no heir and no will. The elders have called a meeting in Moorestown in two days." The man was out of breath and still seemed in a rush. "I still have to reach Milton in time for them to be able to make their journey."

"Aye, ill news." Commented the smith. "You had best be off then." Then the smith turned away to return to his house and the man, Lincoln, rode off again to the west and Milton. Harry followed the smith.

"I'd like to come with you." Harry said, the man kept walking, he was in a rush but he was also old.

"It's none of your business boy, you've been good to the village but this aint your problem." Harry followed him into his house.

"What will happen to the valley now though, without an heir?"

"The lords will squabble over it as they do in all such situations, and if the inheritance cannot be resolved with words they will do it with iron." The gruff man began collecting clothes and food for his journey down the valley.

"I can help though." Harry tried, though he knew it was week.

"Oh and how might you do that? And why? These ain't your people, they are up in the North or so you say. Once spring comes you will leave the valley and not think of us again." It seemed like the man wanted the conversation over and turned his back on Harry.

"I'll make a claim." The man froze, and turned back to him, his eyes narrowed.

"A claim you say? You may have a name and words but nobody knows them, Lord Arryn will laugh in your face then maybe sentence you to death for pretending to be a lord."

"That may be so but that is my risk to take! At least let me try Emeric, to help prevent a war." The man looked long at Harry, who, now nineteen years old and very well built from work in the forge, now cut a some what intimidating figure. No longer a boy.

"Fine, have it your way, come to the meeting and state your case." And so they went together, by wagon with some goods to sell in the Moorestown markets while they were there. The trip took a day and a half and it was well into the night by the time they arrived.

The meeting took place in the town hall at the center of Moorestown. It was larger than that of Brooksvale but also just as bare, four stone walls, some tables that had been moved out of the way for the benches and a fire pit in the middle. The town itself was also just a larger replica of the town at the top of the valley but just larger. The only difference was the large wooden structure that dominated the Northern side of town. It was made up of a central keep of stone and two walls of wood with a space Harry assumed was a moat due to the draw bridge but it was full of snow at the moment.

The village elders of the valley were a blur of beards and wrinkles. The meeting had yet to start so they were all jovially catching up on the winter's news. Once the last village member arrived the elder from Moorestown, Tanerin, called for silence.

"You all know why we are here today." He spoke loudly and with a deep baritone. "We must discuss what, if anything, we can do to prevent a conflict over our valley. The Moore's have long sat here but now that is at an end."

"We should support the one with the best claim!" Called an elder. "Roland Moore's sister was married and had children. By birth one of them should inherit."

"Aye that is true." Said another. "But she married a dornishman, then we had a war with them. Lord Arryn will not have a Dornishman take this seat."

"Who else then!" Argued the first elder.

"Lynderly or Coldwater are our nearest neigbours. Likely we will be split by the river and given to each house." Said Tanerin, a grim look on his face, Harry expected that he did not much favour this option.

"This is all conjecture any way." Emeric said from in front of Harry. "We will not know until Lord Arryn is sent a raven and we are told. I wouldn't expect it till winter's break." There was a moment of contemplative silence at this. Now was Harry's chance.

"I may have an option." All eyes turned to him and Harry suddenly got nervous. Emeric bowed his head sadly.

"An who are you?" Tanerin asked.

"Harry Peverell sir." Harry replied. "An old house from the North, long since dispossesed and forgotten." He answered before any of the inevitable questions arrived.

"A lost lord." Emeric explained. "We found him in the snows a year past and has been working with me since."

"I wish to attempt to convince Lord Arryn to grant the valley to me."

"And how might you do that boy?" The elder in favour of the Dornish asked.

"I hope, with your help, my breeding." Harry cringed internally at the word, purebloods had made him somewhat adverse to the concept. "That Lord Arryn might agree for a price."

"You want us to pay to make you our lord? What exactly would you do for us?" One of the elders grumbles, with some agreement from the others.

"No, I do not think that Lord Arryn will agree just for some gold, he does not strike me as such a man from what I have heard of him. No I have something much more worth while for him." From beneath his travelling cloak Harry revealed a plain looking blade, holding it up for all to see. It was of a relatively good make but unremarkable other than that. "This sword was found by my great grand father while hunting in the North, his story was that a blizzard forced him into a cave and he had to go deep within to escape the cold. There he found a sleeping bear. My grandfather woke the bear by accident and was flung into a wall, he grabbed this sword that was on the floor and killed the bear with it in one slice." Harry pulled the blade from it's sheath and then hit it hard on the floor. One, twice, three times. The blade cut into the stone. Harry then held the blade for all to see. There was no damage to the blade at all. "He called it Bear's Claw. An indestructible blade."

In reality Harry had bought the sword this morning in the market and had enchanted it that day. An easy piece of work to make something like a sword indestructible. It was why the sword of Gryffindor could withstand the basilisk and horcruxes and where Harry had learnt the runes.

The entire crowd looked in awe. They had never seen magic in their lives and this was as close as they would likely come. An enchanted blade was not a new myth in Westeros but one would never hope to see one.

"You would part with that sword for a lordship? Here in the Valley?" Tanerin sounded skeptical.

"Yes." Said Harry simply. "I wish to help, and I wish to have a place to call home. Emeric can vouch for my character. I make a vow to do all in my power to do right by the people of Moore's Valley should I become it's lord. That I will seek to improve your lives and be just."

"Aye I can. The boy has smarts for sure, made things I never heard of. He looks after the kids and has been teachin us to read. I ain't ever seen a village happier in the depth of winter. We could do worse for a lord." The smith agreed. "But I don't think he can pull it off."

"If I am not successful either way, you can return to your original plan. If you so wish I will not mention your involvement, just have the Maester promise not to send a raven for a few weeks." The elders looked at each other in silence after this, and eventually some nodded in agreement.

"Very well boy, you'll have your chance." Confirmed Tanerin. Harry smiled at them and bowed in thanks.

-Break-

It was slow going through the Vale towards Kings Landing. Cid and Harry's wagon almost constantly sinking into the mud of the spring melt and they would more often be pushing the wagon than sitting it. On the plus side it gave Harry time to admire the scenery such as the Eyrie which he was able to see on a fine day far off in the distance as they passed.

As they traveled Harry thought long on how he would approach the lord of the Vale. Harry knew was a noble man and would not easily be swayed away from tradition and inheritance. He needed to prove to the man he was worthy to take the post. How, he did not know. Weeks passed in this way and as the citadel called the Red Keep came into view Harry still did not have an answer.

King's landing was much the same as Harry expected, a cesspit of whores, street urchins and con men. People who had given up hope, crushed by the opulence of the gardens and palaces of the lords on the hill top. It was vaguely what Harry thought Rome would have looked like in it's hey day, with sprawling slums and gardens in equal measure, large boulevards joining filthy side streets. A city of contrasting lifestyles, Harry doubted there where many place on this continent where the distance between the nobles and commoners was more apparent, more on display. Harry could only wonder at the apathy of King Robert to see this every day and do nothing about it.

It didn't take them long to get an audience with the lord of the Vale. All they needed to do was show the letter they had with the seal of House Moore and tell three or four people that it was important. They were taken to the Hands Tower and asked to wait outside of the solar. They waited hours as people bustled in and out hurriedly, there was often shouting and disagreement from beyond the doors. Eventually a servant approached them.

"The Lord Hand will see you now." The man said. Both Harry and Cid made to stand but the man shook his head. "Only the boy, you wait here." Cid sat back down heavily and deliberately, his sword thwacking on the chair.

"Great, more waitin'." The man grumbled under his breath. Harry smiled at him and finally entered the solar. The Hand's study was filled with dark wooden furniture and books. It was all richly lacquered wood and it shined in the candlelight, the sun had gone down and Harry hadn't even noticed in the dark hallway. It was a cluttered room but no more so than the desk, it was overflowing with paperwork.

The man behind the desk was a strong looking man with broad shoulders and aged hair. He was tired too, Harry could tell from his posture and the bags under his eyes as he looked up at him with deep dark black eyes. He was also missing quite a few teeth and hair.

"Well boy, I haven't much time, what have you come to tell me?" The man, Lord Jon Arryn, Hand of the King and Lord of the Vale and Eyrie and Warden of the East had a deep booming authoritative voice. Harry gulped, he was sure that this might be one of the most difficult conversations of his short life, Harry knew he could escape if he needed, but he wanted to succeed more than anything. Harry bowed to his knee.

"I bring word from the Valley of Moore my lord, Roland Moore is dead my lord, the winter chill took him just before winter's break." Harry then looked up at the Hand to gauge his reaction to the news. Harry had the man's attention, he was now leaned forward in his chair, his chin resting on one hand, a seemingly casual but observant pose. The man's eyes suddenly narrowed at Harry.

"Grave news then. But they should have sent a raven, why send a boy. Especially with the roads as they are in this season?"

"During the winter, Lord Moore's eldest was killed. There is no succession in place." Harry responded quickly, hoping to avoid suspicion a bit longer. The Hand stood from his table and approached the wizard. Harry passed him the letter penned by Moore's Maester, Maester Anton. There was silence as the man read and then he dropped the letter and sighed deeply.

"Another problem." The Arryn sat back behind his desk in thought. Harry decided it was now or never.

"I may have a solution my lord." The man looked up at him but before he could respond Harry continued quickly. "I would like to nominate myself as lord of the valley. My name is Harry Peverell my lord-" The Lord of the Vale's hand shot up, silencing Harry.

"Peverell you say? Boy I am familiar with all the houses, their lords, their ladies and their words. House Peverell is not one I have heard of." The way he said it did not sound curious but rather accusatory.

"We are an old house my lord. From the North and of the First Men. We lost favour many centuries ago and so nothing will have been written about us. But we have words my lord, and heirlooms. I would not ask this boon-" Harry cringed slightly at the word, speaking the way he was felt unusual but he had practiced, he needed to impress upon this man his 'breeding'. "-without offering something in return." Harry then revealed the sword from beneath his cloak. "This sword is an heirloom to my family. It was found many years ago by my ancestors and has been with us ever since, it is an unbreakable blade my lord. It would be yours in return for the chance to prove myself worthy of inheriting the Valley." The Hand looked at him and the blade sceptically but with a hint of curiosity. This world was not a stranger to magic, they simply thought it had disappeared.

Jon took the sword from it's sheath and then bent it experimentally. He then cut at the castle wall. A loud grating noise wrung through the study as the sword bit into the rock. Arryn then looked at the blade and showed his suprise clearly on his face. Not even a scratch.

"A magical blade." The man whispered. "This could buy you a kingdom boy, and you would give it up for a valley. Why? And what would you do if I made you lord?" The Hand asked.

"I have lived in the valley, I wish to see it prosper, not be warred over as the villages fear. In answer to your second question I would rule it justly and seek every opportunity to improve the lives of my subjects." Another cringe worthy word in Harry's opinion but the system of lords would not be ignored before a man who had fought to put a man on a throne.

"A good answer." The Hand smiled at him then, a checkered smile at best. "But I cannot just give you a lordship, some might, but that is not my way." Harry did not smile back at this news. "But you are in luck, perhaps one of the few this day. The Greyjoys are rebelling against their king, they have set fire to the Lannister's fleet and likely are raiding the coast as we speak. I want you to go with King Robert, do your duty to the realm well and you will have your lordship." harry gulped at this. A war had not been what he was intending but he really had no choice. Harry smiled at the Hand.

"When do we leave?"


	3. Chapter 3: Ironborn

**Okey dokey here is the next chapter. Some have expressed concerns about Margaery's age being changed but I think there was some confusion. They will certainly meet before the events in canon and I have some things planned for her in both pre and canon time. So they will certainly not meet when they are in their twenties and I will try to keep with the social norms of ASOIAF as best I am able while also factor in Harry's morals.**

**I haven't really had much about Harry being OP but I want to talk about this briefly. Harry will basically be OP. The character I have presented here there is really no getting around it, in the land of the blind the one eyed man rules and all that, but that's fine cause that's what I planned. It will be a long time before he reveals his abilities to their full extent and so until then he will be tempered by his own caution.**

**Anyway, I hope I have at least made his character believable and consistent. He is slightly OOC because of the pre-story history I gave in first chapter but I personally feel he isn't too OOC to his canon. This chapter also has more magic some canon and some of my own. Enjoy.**

**Cheers.**

**Chapter 3: Ironborn**

Harry moved through the halls of the Red Keep, his invisibility cloak wrapped tightly around him. There was no fear of getting caught, only someone with magic would be able to find him. The notice-me-not charm ensured that even if they bumped into him they would think they had tripped or something of the sort. Even without the thrill of getting caught sneaking through a castle under his cloak sure brought back memories.

He hadn't left after being dismissed by Arryn. He had sent Cid back to the inn, telling the man that he wanted to check something while they were here. The man could plead ignorance that way if he got caught, though he doubted that he would, and it was not a lie. There was something that Harry wanted to check while he was here and he doubted anyone would miss them if he helped himself some.

The dungeons were his objective but he had gotten lost in the sprawling hallways and servants passages of Kings Landing's citadel. It was probably more than an hour before Harry finally found himself leaving the red painted halls and descending into cold stone passages. The dungeons were substantially colder than the keep above, winter's chill had not left these halls yet. Harry cast a warming charm and then a _lumos_ as the halls became darker.

He took a left and then stopped in place. An immense skeleton lay across the chamber, its skull the size of Harry faced the door with teeth as large as swords. The beast's ribs were almost as large as a house while the bones in it's wings were slightly larger than Harry.

Harry ran his fingers along the skeleton, it was smoother than he thought it would be. He moved down to the wing and looked at the bones there, they had been pilled in the area they would have occupied if they still had tendons to hold them together. He slowly began sorting through the bones, searching for ones of the correct size. He eventually settled for a bone from the wing, very straight and reaching just above his head. It was slightly heavier than a stick of equal size would be but not too much. He also took two bones from one of the creatures feet, both the same size, about six inches, and straight.

The first bone would be for the Resurrection Stone. Wand lore dictated a certain ratio of core to container. The stone was relatively large for a core and would not fit properly in a wand, the other two bones would become wands if he ever found a core for them, just in case. He had been considering growing magic infused trees back in the valley but he knew it was an arduous process, for some woods taking years. These bones would do just as well and would be far faster. Harry shrunk the bones and left the dungeons. He would be leaving tomorrow with the army headed by King Robert and would need his sleep.

-Break-

"What are you doing back there boy?" Cid grumbled from his perch at the head of the wagon. The man had seemed to resent driving a wagon as they traveled through the Stormlands with the army. Something about an affront to his honor, that warriors should be mounted not stuck in the baggage train. They had been on the road two days now, apparently they were taking a scenic route in order to collect banner men loyal to the king. Harry didn't really care about the slow rate, he was in no desperate mood to be going to battle, Cid seemed to be looking forward to it though and with every delay his mood grew worse.

Jon Arryn had not come with them so Harry didn't really know anybody here and nobody knew him, which suited him fine for now. He was content sitting in the baggage train blunting blades on dragon bone.

He had been working on his staff as they traveled and was happily almost done. Dragon bones had proven to be very hard causing Harry and his wittling knife some trouble. Cid had watched him work with some confusion but hadn't expressed any until now.

"Making something." Harry replied vaguely with a grin, he could almost hear the man's teeth grinding in annoyance.

"Makin what?" Demanded Cid.

"Something to help keep me alive and you too if you're a good boy." Harry grinned at the man over his shoulder. He then fit the stone into place in a tight cavity at the top of the staff. He was done.

As he did so a quick wind whipped around him, blowing some of the wagon's coverings loose causing them to flap about in the wind. Then a light exploded from the tip of the staff. Harry dropped it quickly and the phenomena disappeared as quickly as they arrived. Harry looked around, the only person who saw was the driver of the wagon behind them. The man was staring with wide eyes but had not moved or made a sound, yet.

Harry grabbed his new staff and pointed it at the man. The wagon driver came to his senses in that split second and made to escape, but Harry was quicker. _Obliviate_. Harry's magic responded faster then it had with his wand, more powerfully too, more ferociously. It felt like a primeevil animal as the spell lept from the staff and struck the man in the side of the head. The man went down but nothing else stirred. Harry scanned his surroundings again. Nothing.

"What the bloody hell!" Cid eventually exclaimed.

"I made him forget. Forget what he saw." Harry replied looking back at the man. Cid looked worried by the reply.

"You can do that?" Asked the older man quietly.

"Yes, and many other things, but I don't like messing with people's minds, it isn't something I have ever felt comfortable with, espcially because I know what it feels like to have it done to me." Harry then turned and looked back at the other wagon, it's horses trotting along calmly. "But this was mostly harmless, I couldn't let him tell others what he saw, he will forget the last few minutes but that's all."

"How will I know if you have done anything like that to me?" Cid sounded worried about this thought, Harry didn't blame him.

"You won't." Harry grinned at the man then broke out into laughter."Don't worry Cid, I haven't done anything, but if you are worried just try to look for gaps in your memory like if you got too drunk." Cid nodded slowly but didn't look very reassured.

Harry sat back down in the back of the cart. The cart driver behind them was slowly coming too, the man looked at first confused but then happy that his draft horses hadn't taken their own direction away from the convoy. The staff in Harry's hand was practically humming, he looked it over closely and saw the runes carved along it shimmering in the light. They were just basic strengthening and security runes, meant to keep the staff together and in Harry's hands only. As he held the staff though, his magic felt more wild, unbridled, almost felt like it was fluttering about him, desperate to be released. Harry supposed that the larger the foci the greater the bridge between his magic and the outside world. He would have to keep tighter control of it for the future. It would not do to be sending sparks off at random times.

He still had one more rune to add to the staff too, now that it was done. A storage rune, one keyed to a tatoo Harry would have to get on his palm. He had thought on it hard and it would not do to be walking about with a staff. He might be able to get away with it for a while, claiming it as a walking stick, but he was young and it would raise curiosities eventually. At the same time however he needed it close at hand, in case of emergencies. He would key the runic tattoo and the staff together so he could store it in a pocket dimension not unlike the bags and tents of the magical world. That way he could call on it if necessary. It would be painful though, Harry was not looking forward to that.

-Break-

Harry parried another blow, metal grating on metal, screeching in his ears. His muscles burned as he tried to gain the upper hand in the clash of iron. The warrior pushed suddenly and Harry stumbled, only for a second, but it was enough. The man's sword flashed out and caught Harry's sword hand. He cursed and almost dropped his sword. He ducked another wild slash then pushed off on the balls of his feet. Harry's shoulder connected with the man's armoured stomach. Normally it would be enough to wind him but not with the chain he was wearing. The man moved slightly backward to put some space then moved in, swinging low. Harry parried again but the mans sword slid across his own and then came to rest with the base of the blade at Harry's neck.

"That's ten to me." Cid said with a smirk then backed away, sheathing his sword.

"That's all to you." Harry grumbled in reply. "I could beat you, you know?"

"No doubt." Agreed the man. "But then what would be the point in learnin'?"

Harry sighed and sat down on a nearby log. They had made camp for the night and so continued Harry's lessons in the not so subtle arts of the blade. He had been learning for the better part of a year but he was still no closer to beating Cid.

"You're gettin better though." Harry smiled in thanks. It had been almost two more weeks on the road since Harry had made his staff and not much of note had happened. They were finally on the march to

Seaguard, which was besieged by the Ironborn. Harry heard they were probably two days out still. He was not really in any rush though. Thoughts of battle and warfare were not as appealing to Harry as it seemed it was to most of the honour crazed citizen's of Westeros. Certainly the King seemed to be looking forward to it, from what Harry could tell as he observed the meeting of the King and Lord Stark and their hosts three days back. Harry could not fathom this desire for combat, for violence in which someone would inevitably lose, to look forward to such a lose of life was detestable in his opinion.

Harry knew they didn't desire violence for violence's sake though. The lords of Westeros wanted fame and honour and in this land that is found in blood. He would fight though, he would fight so that victory was achieved faster and in the process lives were saved. The shorter and faster the campaign the better, there would be losers still, but perhaps fewer sons and brothers lost as if he did not participate, less impact on the small folk. Harry also consoled himself that he was fighting on the side that did not start this conflict.

"Word has come." Said Cid, sitting down besides Harry. "We will reach Seaguard in two days, the King's brother has beaten the ironborn at sea near Fair Isle. We need to clean up Sea Guard then the way is open to the Iron Islands." Harry nodded grimly. "Don't be so melancholy boy." He laughed, slapping Harry on the back. "There will be plenty for all of us." Harry shook his head.

"I don't really want to fight. What will you do Cid? When we get into it?"

"Stick close to you I expect, I'm sure you'll see me through it safe and sound." Cid grinned over at Harry. "Yer gonna be a lord soon enough though. You'll have to fight, what ever King of the day will demand it of you and the small folk, they respect a leader that can fight, that can look after them. They like stories of great warriors, of battles and conquest, gives em someone to look up to. So best you get a taste for it now."

"Maybe, but I'm sure they don't like it when those battles end up on their door step or those wars take the food from their mouths. Maybe they just don't know any other sort of leader. Maybe, Cid, it is time they found a new one, someone they can look up to because they care about them, about making sure they can have their own successes. Rather than giving them achievements to aspire to, create something where they can be proud of themselves and their own achievements."

"Aye, a novel thought, noble even maybe. But that ain't the world we live in." Cid shook his head saddly and sighed. "The lords will fight, the small folk will go on feeding them and winter will come. The strong'll live to see the summer, that is how it has been and how it will ever be." It was Harry's turn to pat the man on the back.

"It doesn't have to be Cid, I'll show you, after this war we will break the cycle of this game of thrones, start the seven kingdoms on a new path. And if someone stands in our way." Harry then held up his hand in a fist between the men. Small bolts of electricity crackled across his skin, bursting out in arches. Despite himself Cid moved slightly back in fear. "I'll just show them something they haven't seen before."

-Break-

Seaguard came in to view the next day, a large castle sitting atop a natural arch over looking the sea. A town sitting below was smoking, likely having been burnt by the Ironborn, and the smell carried to them even so far away, the smell of burnt flesh. They set up camp behind a hill, out of sight of the town. The men of the Iron Islands were still camped around the castle, though they did not seem to be doing much there, perhaps hoping to starve the defenders out after winter depleted their reserves. A war council was called to prepare for the next day, Harry stood far to the back, listening to the men argue. Jon had apparently discussed him with the King and so he was being judged by the man as Jon had stayed behind in Kings Landing.

"We will attack at dawn!" Insisted the King. Some had been argueing for an immediate attack to releave the castle but the King wanted to give his army the chance to rest. You could ask many questions of King Roberts character, but the man knew how to lead a war, having taken his throne in that way.

"I agree." Lord Stark was a tall burly man of the North, serious in face and nature with dark features and a sword as long as he was tall. He was also a close friend of the king. "The problem will be the town itself, it leads us very few avenues of approach. By now they will know we are here and will have set up defenses along each of the wider roads. We will lose many breaching what ever they have set up."

"Is there no other way?" Asked a lord Harry did not know.

"Aye, the castle will not know we are here, they will not be prepared unless we can get word to them. If they are able to begin their attack at the same time we do the Ironborn may not expect it." The Stark then looked over everyone present. "The trouble will be getting the message to them." Harry saw his opportunity. To most it was an almost suicidal mission, but for him it would be as dangerous as a walk in the park. Harry raised his hand.

"I will go Lord Stark." Everyone looked over at him then.

"Who are you boy?" Asked the King.

"Harry Peverell, your grace." Harry bowed, he knew how he should address this man, though it felt very foreign indeed.

"The boy Jon spoke of?" Robert asked rhetorically. "A lordship for a letter aye?" The man scoffed then. "What do you think Ned?"

"I can do it your grace. I can warn the castle before the moon has reached its peak and have them ready by first light." Harry answered himself. The lord Stark looked at him then nodded in answer.

"Give the boy a letter, quickly, faster he goes the better." The King nodded his agreement too. He penned a quick letter on some parchment, applied his seal and then handed it to Harry, who had been pushed through the crowd to the center.

"You do this boy, and live, we will discuss your worth as a lord." The king eyed him carefully. "Give my regards to House Mallister." Robert then turned away.

"I'm not doing this for a lordship your grace." Harry replied to his back. "I just want to save lives." He did not see the kings reaction, but for the first time since laying eyes on the man he saw Eddard Stark smile.

-Break-

Harry stuck to the forest for as long as he could, the King had sent some men to guard him until he reached the town and so Harry couldn't use his cloak until they left. The forest ended almost a kilometer from the town though and between the trees and the burnt structures was open farm land. They moved across the tree line, staying as low as possible, until they reached a small stream. The water had cut through the landscape enough to keep the party below the line of sight of any guards watching the fields. They moved through the trench as quickly as possible, stopping once for a patrol which passed over the bridge at the outskirts of town. They stopped beneath the bridge and the guards looked at Harry.

"Well lad, the castle is to the north west, stick to the ruins and you might just live through this...and if you don't, well, we will raise some ale to you when this is over." The leader then shook his hand and Harry was alone. Harry waited there, under the bridge for some time till the sun was fully set behind the Iron Islands in the distance. Harry briefly considered doing this the hard way, without his cloak, but then thought better of it, it wasn't the time to be playing around. He turned his cloak about and disappeared from view.

The town was a wreck, building's burnt or smoldering, some were still standing but had been pillaged by their new occupants and debris covered the road. Harry stuck to the edges of the road, wanting to get in the habit of avoiding bumping into anyone and almost tripped over a rotting corpse left in the street, the Ironborn probably not caring about a diseased body so far from their camp near the center. He nearly gagged at the smell and quickly put some distance between them.

The main road had indeed been blockaded, some guards were lazying behind some long wooden spikes pointing toward the forest and stacked debris. As he passed through a gap between two burnt down houses Harry motioned at the blockades. Some of the stones and destroyed furniture crumbed under the weight of the wooden spikes and sections of the blockade collapsed completely. The guards and many more men rushed at the noise, some stared dumbfounded at their work undone but at least one man kept his wits and started barking orders. Harry moved on deeper into the camp, reaching the still erect buildings that skirted the town center after a few more blocks. There were tents set up here, around an enormous bell tower in the center of the town. Men were moving about at a hurried pace and Harry could hear the ringing of a smithy not too far away over the noise of men yelling orders at each other.

Then a feminine scream from the inn pierced the noise of the camp, the terror and pain of the scream made his blood run cold. He knew he could do nothing for them now, that he could not take them with him and to do anything to their attackers would probably draw suspicion and death on to them. The best thing, he knew, was to finish his mission. Those screens steeled his resolve far better then any inspiring speech ever could.

Harry moved around the crowded center then reached the blockade of the castle not far further. The castle sat on a pointed cliff and was made of a dark grey stone. The outer fortifications only required one straight wall and Harry could see guards watching the blockade, ready for an attack. The blockade was crowded with Ironborn but they didn't seem to be doing anything, Robert's advisers were probably right in their estimation, the Ironborn were probably content to try starve them out after winter had destroyed their stores.

Harry knew the main challenge would be getting past this blockade, and would no doubt be quite difficult for a normal person, however with the gate in sight for Harry it was as easy as a turn on the heel. With a pop Harry appeared at the gates. He moved to the corner, out of view of the blockade and took the message from the King out of his bag. There was a small hatch on the large doors Harry assumed was for someone to talk through, he knocked on the hatch.

"Who's there?" Ask someone from beyond the door, a deep male voice.

"A message from the King." Harry replied, trying to be loud and quiet at the same time.

"Which King?" Harry wondered if anyone trying to trick this man would be stupid enough to get the question wrong.

"Robert. Now hurry up, it isn't exactly fun milling about this side of your nice walls." Harry was growing impatient, it would not do if he had to reveal himself just to survive a letter delivery.

"Do you have a seal? Show me." The hatch opened slightly and Harry passed the message with the king's seel on it to the man. Less then a minute later the larger door opened slightly and an old grizzled face popped into view. Harry heard shouting in the background as people noticed the door opening. "Hurry up boy, we don't have all day." Harry slipped through the door and they closed heavily behind him, the wooden post dropping back in to place a moment later. The courtyard between the castle and wall was filled with people, some soldiers carrying weapons and rushing about, some townspeople clearly trying to either help or not get in the way and lastly a group of soldiers pushing through the crowds towards the gate with a large old man in full plate armor heading them up, his grey beard the only real discernible feature under his helmet. Harry assumed that this was Lord Jason Mallister.

The Lord of Seaguard approached the gates-man and took the message from him. As he read his shoulders seemed to slump in relief. The lord then turned on Harry.

"How are you boy?" He asked, he had a deep course voice, befitting his appearance.

"Harry Peverell my lord." Harry bowed.

"You have served your King well by getting here, and you have done my house a service. For this I thank you. Now I have many questions and not much time it seems." The lord then turned to a man next to

him. "Alistair, get the men ready, at first light, once the King makes his move, we sally forth and break the blockade." The man saluted and left to make his preperations. "You boy with me." Mallister then turned and made for the castle. Harry followed behind, there wasn't really much he could do out here anyway but get in the way.

Harry spent a large portion of the rest of the night answering the lords questions about the camp, the disposition of both the King's and the ironbon's forces and news of the war. Harry told him what he could and when he was eventually dismissed to rest before the attack Harry went to the top of the castle to watch for the King's attack. It wasn't his job to do so but he didn't much feel like sleeping.

From the towers of Seaguard Harry could almost see the King's camp, but there were no fires to help him pick it out. He could, however, see all of the town below, the bell tower in the town center, the burnt husks of buildings and the armor of the Ironborn glinting in their fires. Tomorrow he would go out and fight those same glowing specks, there would be death, lots of it, and Harry hoped that he could help bring a swift end to the violence.

-Break-

Just before dawn, as the air began to warm, a light mist began to role in from the sea. Watching the clouds form Harry then realised how he could help in the fight without any overt use of his skills. He stood up from his seat on the castles highest tower, summoning his staff in a swirl of black smoke. He thrust his staff into the air and incanted in his head, focusing on the mists, casting his intent into the ether, _Latitat Nubila_. The end of his staff glowed faintly as the magic took hold, dispersing into the atmosphere. The blanket of mist slowly became more and more dense, smothering the town. The fires disappeared and the noise of panic began. The sun peaked over the horizon and Harry decided it was time to join the men in the courtyard, the King would arrive soon.

As Harry reached the courtyard full of soldiers and weapons the sounds of combat could already be heard from beyond the wall. Men were screaming in fear and pain and iron was clashing with iron. Harry pushed his way closer to the front just as the doors began to creek open. It was difficult to move in the throng of warriors pushing to exit the gate but as they passed the threshold he suddenly had an abundance of space.

He paused, the sounds and smells of combat assaulting his senses. Death and suffering blanketed him. He had never seen such a sight, men pleading for their lives as they bled out, limbs severed, arrows flying and skewering people all about him, both Ironborn and Riverlanders alike. He had been in combat, in battles, and had seen death. The silent death of the killing curse did not prepare him for this however. A man bumped into him from behind as he passed and was promptly hit in the leg by an arrow. The man went down silently and Harry finally jumped back to the reality of the situation. This man would likely die if Harry did nothing.

Harry slid down to the wounded man and quickly tore some cloth loose from the mans shirt. The man was gripping his leg in pain, the arrow had struck him through the calf muscle from left to right, either narrowly missing the shin bone or taking a sliver with it. Harry showed the man the cloth and then pried loose his grip around the muscle. He tied the course piece of former clothing above the wound.

"I have to take it out." Harry told the man, yelling into his ear. "It has gone clean through, it will hurt but we might save your leg." The man nodded quickly in panic. Not saying anything in response though Harry could see the pain in his easy. Harry pried the arrow further through the leg, finding it difficult to get a proper grip with the blood. The man screamed in pain. Then, not wanting to start again, Harry pulled quickly. The arrow pushed through and out the other side, Harry through it away and turned back to the man. "Almost done." He covered the bleeding open wound on either side and focused his mind on exactly what he needed. _Incendio_. The wound grew hot and Harry held the spell only for a moment but it was enough for the man to scream in pain and then faint. The blood had stopped though, it would have to do.

Harry then moved around the man and grasped him beneath his shoulders. Armour and all the man weighed more than Harry could bare for more than a few moments. But with three attempts he got him back to the door which was not far off and motioned for some nearby towns people to carry him the rest of the way. Now, Harry thought, it was time to end this fight. He left the castle once more and made for the town center where he knew the Ironborn would make their stand.

The town was in chaos, men screaming in both agony and anger, the buildings not already burnt already were in flames, piercing the still thick fog with dancing shadows. Harry moved through the former alleyways, wanting to avoid combat and reach the center quickly. The one ironborn who found him was quickly banished as Harry pushed on. The center of town was the only place Harry had seen where the Kraken were holding their own. Harry could see the command post with a youth, about Harry's age, yelling commands at his men. Harry assumed that this was the Greyjoy leading the siege and was, consequently, Harry's target. To his left the Kings men had arrived, crashing into the last barricade between them and their same target, the Greyjoy boy. The difficulty here for Harry was that he couldn't use anything flashy lest he be revealed.

Opportunity came when Greyjoy ordered his men to reinforce the barricade where the Kings men were slowly cutting his men down. Harry sprinted from his cover, sliding past two surprised guardsmen and made straight for the tent beneath the bell tower where the commander was turning at men's yells. It was over in an instant, the Greyjoy turned and lifted his sword above his head to swing down at

Harry, Harry drew his own sword smoother than he thought he was capable and blocked the strike pushing it to the side. The young wizard reached out with his hand toward his opposites head, such a move would not cause too much concern in a normal sword fight and the Greyjoy moved back slightly, bringing his sword about to strike again. Stupefy. The spell jumped from hand to knight with a minuscule flash and the knight crumpled. Harry took his sword and pointed it at his opponent's throat, looking around to make sure he was safe. Everyone was watching, frozen.

Mallister had managed to break through the the lines into the town center as well as the Kings men on the other side. The Ironborn that remained dropped their swords in defeat, raising their hands in the air. Harry sheathed his sword and turned to the castles lord as he approached. Behind him Harry saw the King's retinue coming down the main road on horse back.

"Rodrik Greyjoy." Mcallister said, looking down at the unconscious commander. "Quite the prize you have there boy. Would that I had got here before you." The lord then looked up at Harry, scrutinizing him for a moment, then looked back down at the fallen Kraken. "How did you take him down? We saw you rush him and then he fell."

"A stone, I had it in my hand and hit him with it, meaning to surprise him." Harry shrugged. "Must have knocked him unconscious." It was a poor lie but it would have to do. The King was approaching.

"BOY!" He yelled as they rode up on horseback. Harry bowed and mumbled out a 'your grace'. "Alive still and with a dead squid to boot. You are full of surprises. I suppose I have little option but to give you that back water town now." And with that, one small sentence, so unexpected, Harry was a lord. He had expected ceremony, pomp, maybe a list of titles as long as Dumbledore's had been. This was better though, he guessed, not really being one for ceremony. Though maybe that would come later.

"Not dead your grace, just unconscious." Harry replied.

"A living squid you say, even better to bring Balon to heel. You've done well boy, more than we could have asked. But the war is still not over. Mallister I'll expect your hospitality." The King looked from the wizard to the lord of the castle.

"You have it your grace."

-Break-

Harry did get the ceremony he had expected. Mallister had his maester draw up the appropriate deeds and then Robert signed it in witness of Eddard Stark. Harry sent the documents and some instructions back to the valley via raven and the Eyrie the next day. Three more days past as the army busied itself cleaning up the town while they waited for the fleet of the kings brother. On the forth day longboats were sighted on the horizon.

Stannis was greeted warmly by the King and his entourage, each party invigorated by their success on the field. The King's brother was a dour serious man and Harry didn't feel any compulsion to get to know the man after their initial brief introduction. Instead Harry helped Lord Mallister in his relief efforts by seeking supplies to help his embattled people. They wouldn't be leaving for another week, giving everyone a chance to rest and when he wasn't organising supply distributions he was learning to build houses, putting his rudimentary knowledge of pulleys to the test and experimenting with other contraptions not yet introduced in this world. Not all of them worked but it allowed him to practice things he had read about in his lonely nights at the library.

Finally the day came for the army to embark to the Iron Islands. Harry and Cid, who he had found had left the fight unscathed, were waiting by the docks unsure about what boat they should be taking. They were waiting patiently near where the King's boat would be boarding when a man approached them. Harry recognised him instantly as the man who had taken an arrow in the leg. Harry nodded in greeting as the man hobbled over, supported by a large stick under his arm. He was an older man, perhaps in his forties, clean shaven with a scar on his chin. He had an average, somewhat large build outside of his armor.

"Milord." The man dipped his head in greeting. Harry waved it away, the title already getting on his nerves. "They tell me I have you to thank for me leg."

"I didn't do anything another wouldn't have in my place." Replied the wizard.

"Maybe, maybe not." The man shrugged. "It matters not as it is you I have to thank. I am a mercenary by trade but if you'll 'ave me I would ask that you take me into yer service. You have saved my life and in return I give ye mine." The man tried to bend to his knee but was obviously difficult to do in his condition. Harry jumped from his seat and helped the man back up before he reached the ground.

"You do not need to do that. If you wish to join with me and that is your honest choice then I will accept. but if you offer because you feel compelled then it is not necessary."

"No milord." The man shook his head. "You saved me life when other lords would have charged forward fer their glory, yer a lord who I would follow if you would have me." The man looked at Harry who finally nodded in acceptance.

"Fine, but you stay here for now till you can walk properly." The man nodded his agreement then Harry made to shake the man's hand. "Harry Peverell." The man gripped it.

"Landon Rivers." The man replied, grinning at his new lord.

"Lord Peverell!" Rang a voice as Landon released his grip. A large bolding man was calling from the docks, Lord Baxter Redwyne's lieutenant. "You'll be on the Kings boat. Hurry up we leave in the hour!" Harry waved at the man showing that he had heard and then bade farewell to Landon.

-Break-

Being on the King's boat meant that they missed the landing and fight in Lordsport. They remained in the town as the army attacked Botley Castle and as the siege engines built from the wood in the shipyard eventually crushed Pyke's southern wall almost two weeks later Harry lost his patience.

"Your grace." Harry started but the King already realised what he wanted and chuckled.

"Ah to be young. I'm just as bored back here as you are. Worry not boy, it is time that this old thing got a working too." Harry wasn't sure whether the man was talking about the immense war-hammer in his hands or himself and didn't care to ask. The King and his guard charged through the breach, following the King men into battle. Harry knocked down the first Ironborn down and moved through the breach. The men of the Iron Islands were attempting to hold the courtyard but their shield wall was slowly being pushed back. Harry thought he saw a burst of flame somewhere in the fray but didn't bother to check.

To his left an area of the castles wall had crumbled, leaving an entrance into the inner castle wide enough to squeeze through. Harry didn't bother, preferring to apparate into the next room. The castle was darkly decorated in blues a greens, with tapestries showing naval battles or people, probably Greyjoys, lining the walls of the hallway. Haryr continued through the castle, the sound of battle outside raging, but didn't find anyone. The fighting wouldn't last long and so he knew he would have to be quick but the castle was a veritable maze and every door he tried lead to chamber pots, store rooms and sleeping quarters. As he neared what he assumed was the center of the castle Harry finally found his objective, stairs descending to what could only be called a dungeon.

The dungeons were not very large and Harry found his target easily. Large steel doors loomed before him, the vaults of castle Pyke. Harry waved his hand and the doors unlocked, opening as he entered. The room was brimming with gold and silver of all shapes, from coins to cutlery, jewelry and gilded furniture. Harry knew much of this was likely from the recent raids and so he didn't feel much compulsion to stop himself from taking a share. Especially if the King and his men would take it anyway.

He took his trunk from a pocket and began moving various expensive looking pieces in along with a good amount of coins. He couldn't take all of it, else it would be suspicious but he would take enough to help his plans for the valley on his return. Once he was done he closed the vault and put on his invisibility cloak. It would be better if he wasn't seen anywhere near here.

He took his cloak off only when he reached a secluded spot near the breach and left to find Cid. The fighting had stopped and it was time to get started on the real work before him.


	4. Chapter 4: Home Is Where The Flag Is

**It is a shorter chapter and perhaps a boring one for some but I wanted to send out what I had before Christmas. Anyway here it is.**

**Chapter 4: Home Is Where The Flag Is**

The town of Lordsport bore an uncanny resemblance to Seaguard, its buildings gutted during the King's attack. Botley's keep was a black husk on the hillside, the Sept reduced to charcoal but worst of all was the boat yard, which had also had fallen victim to the flames of war. For a seafaring people Harry knew this would be the hardest pill to swallow, their complete reliance on the sea for food only exacerbated the loss. 'We do not sow', the words of the Greyjoys, would be these peoples undoing one day. Harry did not feel much empathy though, these people, unlike many others he had encountered in Westeros these people embraced the ways of their lords, revelling in their raids and violence. As a result he also didn't feel that bad about what he intended to do here.

There were some men milling about the port shifting through the rubble of the shipyard. They were so covered in ash and so as Harry and Cid approached they could barely tell the men apart except for their obvious distinguishing features like their beards for the older men and the softer features of the younger.

"Who is the master of this shipyard?" Harry asked the men. One man approached from the pack while the others stood back, curious as to what was happening.

"That'll be me lad." The man seemed to be in his late fifties with a gruff manner. "What do ye want?"

"I'm here to offer you work." The man looked at him sceptically.

"Well I 'ate to break it to ya but we ain't exactly takin any orders for a while." The man looked Harry up and down. The wizard could see the anger in his eyes. "Not that we'd take em from yor kinda anyhow, mainlander."

"I'm not asking for work done here." Harry pressed. "I'm offering a place on my lands, I wish to build a shipyard and I am seeking your help in doing so." Harry gestured at the ruins absently. "As you say, you aren't exactly in the best position at the moment. I am offering an opportunity to continue your trade. An opportunity you may not get here depending on Robert's leniency." That was probably a bit of a low blow but the man didn't seem to anger, rather he seemed to drop slightly.

"May be that you are right." The man then gestured at the ruins too. "But this is my home, my family lie here, they paid the iron price and I shall not disrespect that. We are ironborn and we do not sow." The words were said with finality and Harry nodded his head.

"Very well, that is your choice to make and I shall respect that." Harry then raised his voice. "The offer remains open if anyone changes their mind. My name is Harry of House Peverell, I will be staying near the docks until the King leaves if anyone needs me." With that Harry made to leave. As he turned the corner of one of the few buildings left standing a voice called out to him. Harry turned and waited for the soot covered man to catch up.

"Lord Peverell." The man said again, repeating his call, temporarily out of breath from his run to catch up. "Lord Peverell, I wish to come with you."

"I see, and you are?" Harry asked.

"Amerson, milord. Boat builders apprentice. Some others will come too." The boy, probably only two years Harry's junior scratched his head nervously. "Tell the truth it ain't really great workin with old Duncan, he forced out the old Boat Master n took 'is place. Went straight to 'is head it did. Acts like he's Lord Admiral of the Iron Fleet he does. So we figure we might throw our lot in with you, see the world a bit maybe." Harry nodded his head in acceptance.

"And how many are we to expect to be travelling with us Amerson?"

"Three, maybe four milord. The last Boat Master, Tanderin, I'll talk to for you, you want to set up a yard, Tanderin's yer man." The boat builder looked awkward then. "Thing is milord, we ain't got much after the war, we need gear for the trip." 

"Ah." Harry looked over at Cid who shrugged in response. Harry sighed and pulled out some coins from a pouch attached at his hip. "Get what you need and meet me in three days, we should be ready to leave by then." Amerson nodded in agreement and ran off again.

"Cid." Harry turned to the man. Cid looked at him at attention. "Go find the blacksmiths and any other trades person you can find, carpenters net makers whatever. Give them the same offer." Harry handed him the bag of coins.

"Should I ask why?" The man looked like he really wasn't sure he wanted to know. Harry smiled slightly at the thought. The man was becoming more and more nervous about Harry's schemes, especially after he had found out about the stolen gold. It was basically the same as stealing from the King.

"I'm sure you know this already but tradesmen are the life blood of Westeros. One blacksmith is worth more than a hundred soldiers. We will need them in the valley. I have plans Cid, I want to make the valley more than it is, and I want to show the people what they are missing with their selfish lords. Perhaps then they will learn, the lords rule for the people, not in spite of them." Cid shook his head.

"Sure, just don't piss too many people off and get me killed." The man winked at Harry with a grin. "Can't find a nice lass with you making everyone angry."

"Sure, old man, it's been me stopping you all this time."

-Break-

Harry was called to a meeting of lords later that day. It was chaired in the Kings quarters in the Bloody Keep's guest keep. The King, Harry had heard, enjoyed pointing out that he was a guest in the castle but that Balon's hospitality had been lacking. The Lord Reaper of Pyke had apparently sequestered himself in the hall of the Seastone chair in mourning for his second son Maron, though Harry also suspected that he simply did not wish to face his subjugators either.

Every lord who had made the trip to was in attendance. Lord Redwyne, tall and skinny and one of the few Harry had not met yet stood with Stannis Baratheon the Master of Ships talking quietly. The King and Eddard Stark were also talking on the far side of the room, motioning at some papers laid between them. Other minor lords either sat patiently and waited or conversed amicably with each other. After a few more minutes and a few more lords arriving the King turned to the gathering and called for silence.

"We are here today to discuss Theon and Rodrik Greyjoy." The King announced, not wasting any time. "After discussing with Ned I have decided that they shall be taken as hostages for Balon's continued…good behaviour." Stark then stepped forward.

"I have agreed to take Theon, I have a son a few years younger and I am confident they can become friends, hopefully influence Theon away from the path of his ancestors." The King nodded at the words of the Warden of the North.

"I have agreed to this. So the placement of Rodrik remains." The King observed the gathering, looking for comment. Redwyne stepped forward.

"Your grace, I have discussed this topic with Rodrik since his arrival here from Seaguard. He has expressed a wish to take lodging with the man who bested him, after finding out they were a Lord themselves." The tall man then looked over at Harry, who had been loitering at the back of the meeting, not much interested in the topic being discussed. All eyes turned to him and Harry shook his head at the congregation.

"It would not be a good fit." Harry replied to the unasked question. "We are of a similar age and he is heir to the Iron Islands while I am a new lord and a minor one at that. I fear respect would be an issue, I would not be able to control him." As Harry talked, his sense of dread grew, as he observed the mirthful expression of the King.

"A minor lord the captor of Balon's heir. I can think of nothing better." The King grinned while many in the meeting grimaced in response. "The boy will respect you Peverell, you knocked him down at Seaguard and he won't soon forget it. No I think it's a good match indeed."

"Your grace, with due respect, I do not think that I am up to the task of keeping Rodrik Greyjoy. I have not yet been to my seat as lord of Moore Valley, there is much work to be done after winter and most of the people do not know me. It is another layer of responsibility I am not sure I am comfortable with."

"Well lad, I am your king and you are one of my lords now, you will do as you are told and conduct yourself as appropriate to your station." The King frowned at the younger lord. "We all have our responsibilities, we are the protectors and leaders of the realm, no responsibility is too high. You will take this honour which is given to you and you will do your duty."

Harry just nodded in acceptance of the chastisement and the matter was settled. Various other minor topics were discussed including a delay in the King's departure, though Harry decided he would abide by his original schedule, desperate to get back to the valley. The meeting then broke but Harry was pulled aside by Eddard Stark.

"I want to apologise Lord Peverell." The Stark indicated that he would walk with Harry toward the bridge that lead back to the Great Keep and the broken walls of Castle Pyke. "Robert can have a temper and doesn't much like being refused something, especially if he finds it entertaining." Harry shook his head.

"Call me Harry, Lord Stark. I am not yet used to the moniker. And it was not my place to refuse him either." Harry shrugged. "I suppose I am not yet used to my position as a lord yet either."

"No, you were right to question. It is a responsibility too far for a man in your position. Still, as Robert pointed out, we are lords of the realm and this sometimes mean we must take tasks upon our shoulders despite our feelings on them. You will learn this in time, as you meet out the king's justice." Harry smiled at the lord of the North. He was a serious man who by reputation took his position with great stoicism, but still he was a good and caring man by all regards.

"Thank you for your words Lord Stark. I hope that I can follow by your example and do right by the people of the Valley of Moore." The Northman grinned and clapped Harry on the shoulder. On reaching the exit of the Bloody Keep the men bade each other farewell, the Stark returning to the King. It would be many years before Harry would see the Wolf again.

-Break-

It ended up that Cid was quite a good speaker, either that or prospects on the island of Pyke were exceedingly grim, as he was able to convince about forty people to make the trip to the Valley. Some were bringing families as well totalling a party of about one hundred that sailed from Lordsport three days later, including one grim faced and seemingly slightly drunk Greyjoy.

Harry commissioned a longboat for the trip and knew he would need to buy supplies and gear such a wagons and tents on arriving at Seaguard. It would be a costly journey, especially the cost of food in the area at the moment but he would be able to sell the horses and wagons again in the valley.

It was an uncomfortable journey to the port of the Riverlands. The seas were calm thankfully as there was not much room on the boat. It was neither of these that made the journey uncomfortable however. It was the baleful stare of Rodrik Greyjoy which made Harry uneasy. So Harry was glad when they reached the port and he could busy himself with purchasing provisions to for the next few days till they could find some cheaper further into the Riverlands.

He didn't buy any wagons, after talking with people he found he could take a boat from the Twins to Maidenpool and then from there to Snakewood. Apparently this would get them to the valley in about two weeks. So they met Landon, who was almost fully mobile again, bought some food and set off on the trek to the Twins.

Most of the men were armed so Harry didn't fear any attack by bandits on their walk, though it was slow going due to the families and Landon's leg. It was the third night when Rodrik would decide to break his silent vigil of the wizard.

"Lord Peverell." He greeted. Harry nodded in reply and gestured away from the camp where they could speak in private. Rodrik lead the way and Harry followed.

"Ser Greyjoy, how may I help you?"

"You are to be my captor. I wish to know the terms of my incarceration." The Greyjoy was stiff as a board, awkward in his propriety and a difficult conversation.

"Terms? There are none really. You obey the laws; contribute in whatever way you can to earn your keep, other than these you are free to do as you wish." Harry replied and Rodrik showed his agreement.

"These people, they are all tradesmen are they not?"

"Yes." Harry replied shortly.

"You have raped our trades." The man's face suddenly twisted with anger. "Our recovery will not be so easy now. You have brought hardship to my people Peverell." Harry shrugged in reply.

"Perhaps, however, perhaps the blame lies with your father more than I. These people were free to make their choice, I did not force them." The Greyjoy remained silent for some time then, scrutinizing Harry who remained silent also.

"You did not beat me fairly in Seaguard."

"I beat you; it doesn't matter if it was fair." Harry replied, not really wishing to get into this conversation.

"They say you had a stone, but I know better. You didn't have a stone. So, how did you knock me out?"

"Perhaps you will find out eventually." Harry shrugged, deciding to ignore the issue entirely. "At this moment though Rodrik I don't trust you. I have heard things too and from what I have heard you are a drunk with a violent streak. I want help in what I hope to do for my people, and there is a lot to do, so I have no time for indulgent people like you." Harry then stalked off back to the fire where people where speaking animatedly with each other in good cheer, leaving the Greyjoy with his thoughts.

Rodrik was not in a good mood the next day, nor the rest of the trip. He seemed in better spirits as they sailed down the Trident. The two boats they needed had been cheap with not much commerce or travel taking place so soon after winters end. It took a few days to reach the mouth of the Trident and then about a week to travel from Maidenpool, a busy port town walled with pink stones, to Snakewood, a small town in a clearing between Snakewood Forest, which played home to the Valley of Moore, and the Narrow Sea.

There were no horses or wagons available in Snakewood so they continued on through the forest on foot. Harry hunted as he had all winter only now it was much easier without knee high snows to contend with and the party ate heartily. This cheered everybody up, except Rodrik, after having eaten salted meets and old vegetables for most of their journey. After a few more days travel through the woods they finally reached the Valley of Moore and its seat Moorestown.

The people of the Valley had been busy since they had left; working their fields and conducting the repairs they could not do in the winter. The place looked like a different place then the valley Harry had left, no longer buried in three feet of snow. The wild flowers were in bloom and the river sparkled in the sunlight, the hamlets bustled with energy and life. Harry had not anticipated such a beautiful sight would great his arrival.

People observed the party curiously but Harry knew that was simply because of the size of the party and the men wearing armour rather than his arrival. These people probably knew they had a new lord but they didn't know him from Cid of Brookesvale, actually, they probably knew Cid better than they did him.

The party reached the round wooden keep, the three spear head flag of House Moore still flying proudly, but the doors were closed. Harry, looked at Cid, who looked back bemused, then knocked hard three times on the door.

"Who goes there?" Called a voice, which sounded old and slightly senile.

"Harry Peverell, lord of this keep!" Harry called back.

"All right, hold yer horses." Harry heard some chuckling behind him and allowed himself a small smile at the people gathered. The gate opened slowly to reveal and an old man, likely in his seventies at least, shuffling out of the way and a muddy round inner courtyard about thirty metres wide with some racks of weapons and troughs for the horses to the left. The large doors to the main structure sat on the far side while smaller structures rested along the sides of the walls making the entrance in which they were standing appear like an alley way.

"Me-lord Peverell, welcome home, the keep is yours." The man bent slowly in a bow.

"Thank you, good sir." Harry replied with a smile. "Please, please, sit down, you are obviously in discomfort." Harry moved through the threshold and took the man by his arm, helping him back to his seat. Some more men exited the keep and made their way over.

One was a maester who Harry knew to be Maester Anton. He was not old as Harry expected him to be, perhaps middle aged with a ring of hair and a clean face. He was wearing the black robe of his order and a bronze chain indicating his area of study, though Harry did not know what it was. What Harry did know was that the Maesters did not like magic. Harry would have to be careful around this one if he found he couldn't trust him.

The other one was older with a grey beard and slick backed hair. He had a scar running from the left of his mouth to his forehead and a blind eye. The man was wearing a House Moore coloured surcoat over his leather armour. He also had a very very large sword strapped to his back. Harry assumed that this was House Moore's Master of Arms, though Harry didn't know his name.

"My Lord Peverell." Started the Maester. "We were expecting you, we would have changed the colours but, well we rightly didn't know your House nor its colours." Harry nodded in greeting to the two men and clapped the old guard on the shoulder as he left him.

"Maester Anton. Thank you for your welcome. We can look to that all in due time but for now we will be lodging these people behind me until they are able to find lodgings of their own. Please see to it." The maester bowed in acceptance and went to talk to some nearby onlookers but before he left Harry called to him. "Maester, I wish for your presence in my chamber in two hours time." The man nodded and left. Harry turned to the other man.

"Ser Anden of House Eastshire, my lord." The man bowed. "I was Emeric Moore's master-at-arms."

"And you shall continue that post under me I hope. House Moore is effectively defunct Ser Anden and your house is not sworn to House Peverell, you and all the houses sworn to Moore are free to do as you wish. You need not swear yourself to my service if you do not wish it."

"I understand my lord." The man then got to his knee. "I will need to discuss it with the rest of my house before I swear them to you; however I would continue as master-at-arms if you will allow it. These are my men and this is my home."

"Rise Sir Anden, you may keep your post." Harry lightly touched the man on the shoulder. The old warrior stood again and smiled at his new lord.

"I shall arrange a guard for you at once and we should discuss your position within the valley when you have a moment."

"Of course." Replied Harry. "However Landon and Cid should be enough guards for me during the day." Harry gestured at the two men behind him; Anden bowed his head slightly at them in greeting. "During the night you may appoint who you wish however. Now it has been a long journey and I think that I will find a bath." The old man grinned and motioned at Harry to follow.

-Break-

The new home to the House of Peverell was not a remarkable keep by any means. Much of it was made with a base of stone and the rest of local hard woods. The great hall rested on the far side of the keep and housed the expansive great hall with its two immense dining tables and the lord's seat upon the dais. Behind the hall lay the lords private chambers where Harry currently found himself.

There was not much to them really, a bedroom with a comfortable four poster bed in the centre and some dressers full of large clothing owned by the previous lord. There was a washroom with a wooden bath and a fireplace to warm the water and lastly a study with a desk and a number of book cases along the wall filled with book.

Harry ordered a bath first and buxom middle aged servant began warming water for him. While he waited he found some of the few pieces of smaller clothing he could, just a basic thin cotton tunic and some leather pants, and then busied himself looking at papers on the desk in the study.

The warm water was a relief to him and he almost fell asleep a number of times before eventually pulling itself from its depths. He got changed and then found Cid waiting for him in the study in one of the wooden chairs.

"You found somewhere to sleep?" Harry asked, stepping around the desk and sitting behind it to look at the old man.

"Aye." The man nodded. "It ain't comfortable with them ironmen jamming up the place but it will do."

"That's only temporary anyway." Harry paused as the Maester and the Master-at-arms entered. Harry gestured for them to take a seat. "Lots to do so let's get down to it." All of the men agreed and Harry looked to the Maester first.

"I did as you ordered in your letters my lord. The machine has been moved to a storage room here in the keep and another built. It has been an expensive enterprise but we have begun circulating the workbooks you wrote in Brooksvale and lessons have begun." Harry nodded in acceptance and then looked to the master-at-arms but the Maester showed a want to continue.

"If I may my lord." Harry waved at him to continue. "I wrote to the citadel of your machine my lord." Harry frowned at the man and sat straighter in his seat. "They have expressed a want to acquire a copy of the designs." Harry held up his hand to stop the man.

"It is best if we understand this now Maester. I will be introducing a number of inventions to the valley; none of them are to be discussed with people outside without my permission first. They are my intellectual property and if others are going to acquire the benefit of these inventions then I expect that I will be properly compensated." 

"But my lord, the good that this machine can accomplish is extraordinary. It should be allowed to do so for all of Westeros." The Maester argued.

"And it can Anton, but for a price, I am the lord of this valley and if I wish to sell these inventions which are meant to benefit my people then I shall. This is not an argument." The man bowed his head in acknowledgement at his lord's orders.

"I understand, they have allowed me to negotiate a price-"

"Fifty thousand dragons." Harry said instantly. All the men gaped in response at the sum. It was no paltry amount, enough to buy an entire fleet of ships or an immense army. Only a few dragons could be the annual income for an entire family. The Maester bowed his head in agreement once more. "And in the future Maester Anton, you are sword to serve the interests of my house, not those of the Citadel, do not withhold such information from me again." Harry then returned his attention to Anden.

"My lord." The man started. "The men are fit, approximately four hundred in number. Most here in Moorestown."

"Good. Have the men spread about the villages, I wish for them to act as a police force. Have them set up an office for their activities in each town hall or whatever more appropriate building." The man saluted and Harry dismissed him.

"Now, Maester, what of the finances of my house?" Harry asked, turning back to the man in black.

"My lord Moore kept a good house, with savings of about two thousand dragons. Much of the wealth, in family heirlooms, have been sent to Mandon Moore in King's Landing, and will then pass to his cousin in Dorne." Harry nodded in thought then asked.

"What is your Maestery, Anton?"

"My chain signifies one of Law, my lord."

"Very good, then you should be able to tell me. Am I allowed to sell the lands which I rule?" Harry asked.

"No my lord, the King's law forbids it." Harry nodded at the answer, already expecting it. "Freeholders may sell and own lands which lie beyond the inheritance of a lord, but a lord may not divest his holdings as he will no longer then be considered a lord."

"Very well, then I have a task for you." Harry passed the man a piece of paper from his desk. "This is a contract for a fifty year lease of land. I will be selling these to farmers who wish to buy them, they will obviously not be sold at the full price of the land as they are a lease but it will entitle the owner to sell whatever they are able to grow on the land." The Maester looked curiously at the document and then back up at Harry.

"And what would you have me do my lord?"

"Divide up the land into plots and draw up contracts for them." Harry answered studying the Maesters reactions closely. The man did not seem to aghast at the suggestion as Harry had expected, though he did seem confused.

"My lord, even if not sold at the full worth of the land, the farmers will not be able to afford them." Harry nodded in agreement at the man's deduction.

"Indeed they won't. Luckily we are in a position to lend them the money." The Maester looked even more confused at this remark. "With the money provided by the Citadel I intend to establish a bank, owned by myself. The purpose of the bank is to provide fair loans to the residents of the valley, so that they can easily access the capital necessary for their own business ventures. These land rentals will be the first portfolio items for the bank, where the bank will receive the money once leant and use the interest to fund other loans."

"I see." The Maester remarked slowly, staring fixedly at the contract before him, deep in thought.

"Do you Maester?" Harry probed.

"You wish to pass ownership from yourself to the small folk." The Maester asked. "But I am not sure I understand why."

"Private ownership and the pursuit of genuine profit should provide incentives for the farmers to work harder, produce more. If they are producing for the profit of someone else then they have little reason to improve the land or their lot. This should address that." The Maester nodded though did not really seem to understand.

"So you wish for them to be motivated by greed?"

"Aren't all men Maester?" Harry grinned. "It matters not that greed is the motivator, just that they express that greed in a positive way. Now I would like for you to do one other thing for me. Over the next few days I ask that compile a list of those who have exceeded in their mathematics classes. I shall need their help in establishing this bank. "

"I will have the list to you as soon as I am able and shall write the Citadel." The Maester bowed and was summarily excused from the study.

"Cid." Harry turned to the last of his studies residents. The man groaned.

"What work will you have me occupying me leisure time with boy?" The man grumbled and then frowned deeper at the grin he received in reply. Harry got up and opened the trunk he had delivered to this room on his arrival. He pulled out three pouches of coins and threw them at the man.

"This is that last of what I took from Pyke. Take it and begin work with the ironmen on building the shipyard." Cid groaned once more in annoyance.

"I have te work with them moaners? All they do 's complain 'bout walkin' and farmin' and life. Right load o stick in te muds te lot of em."

"Regardless, I trust you to keep them in line. There will no doubt be difficulties between them and the locals after the war. Take some guards with you if you feel they are needed. Oh, and take Rodrik with you too." Harry added as an afterthought and then laughed at the man's even louder and more obvious groan.

-Break-

Life in the valley settled into a pretty tedious rhythm for Harry. There was the odd conflict he had to mediate as lord, especially those involving the ironmen, that broke up the monotony some but it was a relatively quiet place the Valley of Moore. Six months passed and Harry felt like nothing had occurred at all, even though things had clearly happened.

The bank and sale of land was underway and Harry also developed and incomplete design for a new type of plough taken from one of his memories for the blacksmiths and farmers to complete and build.

Gringotts Bank, Harry had been insistent, had set up and already a new building was being built in the middle of Moorestown was being constructed to house the organisation. The people running it were adequate at first though Harry had spent a lot of his time on this endeavour as they continued their mathematical education to get them to an appropriate level. The loans were still made mostly to the farmers and one or two blacksmiths but Harry had been overjoyed to find that the bank had lent money to someone who wished to build a paper mill in the valley. Harry knew the man was looking to take advantage of the wizards insatiable need for paper but that made it all the better.

With the success of the bank Harry began to consider establishing other financial institutions but decided to let everything settle a bit before pushing more change. He also considered that the general level of education would need to improve further before he could consider such things.

The paper mill was also the perfect companion to the shipyard, which was only a month or two from completion. The large structure, built with some assistance from the pulley systems Harry devised, towered over the coastal town of Beechhaven. As the structure went up Harry had been working on ship designs with the ironmen, especially masted trading ships employing a divided hull design. Harry really didn't know much about ship building so it had been enjoyable discussing and learning with the men of the Iron Islands.

The only sour point about his time as Lord of Moores Valley was Rodrik. The man had been in more brawls in his time here then Harry could count and he was still baffled as to how to control the man. He clearly resented being here and Harry did not blame him, but the wizard was slowly becoming frustrated with the Greyjoy. He would have to think on that later however, as something had just arrived that would strip him from his tedious existence.

An invitation to the Spring Feast at Kings Landing had arrived.


	5. Chapter 5: A Merry Feast Indeed

**I am sorry about the wait. Also I hope Margaery is in character. I was having a bit of trouble with her part.**

**Chapter 4: A Merry Feast Indeed**

"Rodrik." Harry pushed the man with the toe of his boot and then called again. "Rodrik!" The Greyjoy stirred slightly in his cot but made no indication that he was going to wake up. Harry signalled to the two guardsman who had accompanied him to the Ironborn's chamber. One of the large looking men grabbed a bucket of water from beyond the door and tipped it on the man, letting the bucket slip from his clutches to hit Rodrik in the chest as well. The ironman spluttered to life, cursing and gripping his chest in pain. "Get up."

"What the bloody hell!" Rodrik wiped his face clear so he could see and then looked up at Harry with a glare. "What is this?" The man demanded. The guardsman who had poured the water struck the ironborn across the face.

"That's my lord to you squid." The man grumbled.

"Pick him up Errold." Harry ordered, normally he would have chastised the man but he was quite fed up with Rodrik at the moment. The man nodded and hoisted the soaking sailor up by his clothing until he stood by himself. "A brawl again?" It was a rhetorical question but the ironborn grinned at his host, the man had a few more bruises and cuts on his body than inflicted by the burly guard Errold. "Only this time you broke someone's arm. You are lucky they brought him to me and we could fix it. Anywhere else and he may have lost it and perhaps his life, then where would you be?" Another rhetorical question that Rodrik apparently felt the need to respond to, much to Harry's chagrin.

"Somewhere better than here hopefully." The man grinned again the shrugged off the guardsman who had been holding him up. "No harm in a little blood to wet your fields Peverell."

"Well you will soon find out Rodrik. I have decided your punishment. The man you injured is a farmer and he will not be able to tend his fields too easily now will he?" A slowly dawning look of realisation crept across the Greyjoy's face. "So you will help him pick up the slack."

"We do not sow, Peverell, I will not do it." Rodriks face had turned to a simmering glower, obviously deeply insulted by the suggestion of farming. Harry cared little for the man's feelings at this point however; he had been up half the night setting a man's bones and dealing with his distraught family. A broken bone in Westeros was a serious ailment without modern medicine to treat it.

"You have committed a crime, Rodrik, and I do not take you harming my people lightly. I could make you take the black, at this point I would ride you there myself. Your work at the shipyard has proven useful but you have gone too far and are quickly outstaying your welcome." Harry took a deep breath to calm himself, he knew what this confrontation would be like, had prepared for it for some time.

"Regardless of your feelings on the matter I am your host and at this point your liege lord, Greyjoy. You will serve the sentence I have decided for you and once you have learned the ways of the farm hand you will move on to other occupations. You will also be banned from the drinking establishments until I deem otherwise. Is that clear?" The Greyjoy looked to argue but Errold quickly reminded him that the guardsmen were there so just nodded his head in defeat. "Good. Get some rest, you start tomorrow."

-Break-

The invitation for the Spring Feast had said that the event would start two weeks after Harry had received it however Harry had lied about the date so he could aparate there rather than take the time riding. Still the two weeks passed quickly and Harry had to be off, he had chosen just Cid to come with him as the man was the only other who knew what he could do, Landon had not been pleased but Harry had convinced the man that he was of more use in the valley.

He told Cid that they would ride out of the valley then the man could do as he pleased but the man had decided to come to Kings Landing with him, having nothing better to do. They left the horses with an inn not far from Coldwater and then moved into the woods for some cover.

"Here I need to be holding you for this to work." Cid looked somewhat hesitant about the whole ordeal but shuffled closer. Before the man could do anything stupid that would cause splinching Harry grabbed him and they disappeared with a pop.

The pair reappeared in a forest not far from Kings Landing, Harry had warded a small area on his last visit to use as an apparition point, assuming that it would be necessary to return to the city on occasion. His partners promptly then collapsed and emptied his stomach onto the ground.

"You'll get used to it." Harry remarked helpfully, grinning down at the older man.

"I damn well hope so." The man grumbled and took the water Harry offered him. Harry helped the man back up to his feet and patted him on the back.

"Still beats sitting on a horse for a few days."

"Only cause you can't ride a horse. I find it very comfortable meself." Harry frowned at the retort. He had tried many times to ride a horse, and he could at a slow pace now, but it seemed that he would never be a natural. It was a point of frustration for him, having been so comfortable on a broom after all. Harry blamed the horses. "So when's this feast then?"

"Tomorrow. Let's just get situated in an inn close to the castle today." Harry looked down at his travelling clothes and frowned. "I suppose I'll need to try finding some better clothes too."

They found an in about two blocks from the castle that wasn't completely full called the Flaming Crow. It was a modest establishment but the beds were semi comfortable so Harry couldn't care less, he would only have to be here a few days. They were also, more luckily in Cid's opinion, able to find a tailor able to provide Harry with some formal clothing at short notice, though they paid a premium for the convenience.

So the next day Harry presented himself at the castle in a basic white tunic and black trousers with a nice black furred cloak he had been able to find in the market. None of it was particularly fancy attire he was sure to face at the feast but Harry didn't care much for fashion anyway.

The feast itself was not until later but the throne room was already bustling with courtiers, all of whom Harry did not recognise. The room was a grand affair with two rows of columns lining the sides of the hall leading up to the Iron Throne made of melted swords and sat on by a bored looking Robert. Great banners with the motif of House Baratheon hung from the ceiling added to the grandeur of the immense open room.

As Harry had entered a man whispered in a heralds ear and he was announced to the room.

"Harry Peverell of House Peverell, first of his name, lord of the Valley of Moore." Harry would come to realise it was a short introduction, demonstrating before the entire hall his lack of both history and significance.

The hall turned to face him, likely curious about the new lord of the new house, while the king sat up a bit straighter in his throne. Harry smiled nervously at the congregation and bowed as he had been told to do. He then moved off to the side and tried to keep to the background, some eyes seemed to follow him as he moved but nobody approached him, all being caught up in their own conversations.

"House Peverell is it?" A calm deep voice asked from his left. Harry turned to great the man who had addressed him and was faced with a short man who was approaching old age. He had a well-kept beard, which was very different from the more common bush beards he had come to expect in Westeros, and a full head of straight greying red hair. "Horton Redfort." The man said simply.

"Harry Peverell." Harry greeted his now identified fellow peer from the Vale. Harry held out his hand and the man shook it with a firm grip. "A pleasure to finally meet another lord of the Vale."

"Yes. I am pleased to meet you too, young lord. I have heard of some of your exploits already and so wished to make your acquaintance." Harry smiled at the man and bowed his head slightly.

"Your reputation precedes you as well Lord Redfort." The lord smiled and bowed his head, a mirror of Harry's gesture. "Is it true your fort keeps some of the oldest tomes in Westeros?" The lord bowed his head once more in agreement. "I would like to see them one day."

"You would find little use for them I'm afraid. I read many of them as a boy, mostly fairy tales." The well-kept lord smiled slightly then, perhaps thinking nostalgically of a childhood long since passed.

"There is often some basis for fairy tale, whether it is in fact or the wish to impart some wisdom." Harry replied. A servant passed by carrying a platter with goblets of wine. Both the lords of the Vale took one and chinked cups and took a swig. The lord of the Redfort grinned at him.

"Fairy tales, like those we have been hearing of your ascent to lordship and the sword you gave Lord Arryn? Or the goings on in your new valley?" The man scrutinised Harry closely and the younger lord took a nervous drink. "They say knowledge flows from the very river since you took your seat. That a great building now stands on the shore."

"I serve my people in whatever way I can Lord Redfort. Their wellbeing is my primary concern. Whatever I can do to make their lives better I shall."

"A cryptic answer but a heartfelt one." A voice said from behind the young wizard. The older lord bowed then and Harry turned and did the same as the Lord of the Vale approached. He was followed by a single gold cloak. As Harry looked up from his prostration he caught the gold cloak glaring furiously at him. Harry guessed that man was Mandon Moore. "I would like to visit your valley one day young Harry, see if the rumours spring true. If your printing machine is anything to go by I'm sure it would be an enlightening journey." Harry bowed to the Arryn.

"We would be happy to receive you my lord."

"Yes of course." The Lord of the Vale waved at Harry to follow him. Harry complied and the crowd moved out of the way as they passed, Lord Redfort followed as well, further behind Harry. "You have said your vows to the crown but you have yet to swear to me. Come we will do it now then we have much to discuss."

"Discuss my lord?"

"Yes. Discuss. I have heard these same tales and your printing machine is quite remarkable." The old Lord of the Eyrie, with his mostly toothless grin, waved his hand at the milling lords and ladies, finishing on the bored king. "I could, and probably should, stay with Robert and watch over these dullards and their scheming. But really I would much rather spend my night in honest conversation with the newest Lord of the Vale."

Harry grinned back at the Hand of the King. This was a man Harry could grow to respect. He had met a number of lords in his time with the army; many were fat men or ambitious men or ambivalent men or worse, sometimes many at the same time. Many others were noble characters caught up in their caste system, like Eddard Stark and Jon Arryn. Harry disagreed with these many on topics such as the right to rule, but they were still men who cared for those below them and took their duty to protect seriously. Not for the first time was the young wizard glad he had arrived in the Vale rather than some other, less wholesome, locations.

The three lords of the Vale arrived at the Hand's office and he bade them sit. Some food and drink followed shortly after. The room was much as Harry remembered it, filled with books and paper and dominated by an ink stained hard wood desk.

"Robert has told me of your service in the rebellion, that you completed missions others would think suicidal." Jon took a sniff and then a swig from his goblet. "He sings your praises still."

"I served as any man would." The Arryn bowed his head in agreement.

"But perhaps any man would not have survived." Harry shrugged in response. "Well then let's get this vow over with." Harry stood and drew his sword; he crouched on one knee with the sword pointed to the ground. Bowing his head before the pommel Harry began to intone.

"Before the eyes of the old gods and the new I, Harry of House Peverell, swear to serve the House of Arryn, to respond to any call and to defend its heirs. So I swear." The Arryn grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, bidding him to rise. Lord Redfort handed him his wine and the three men raised their goblets in salute. Harry grit his teeth at the tartness of the drink. He never much liked wine and had yet to acquire a taste for Westeros' national drink.

"Sit, sit." Jon waved them back to their seats and took another long drink from his cup. "So reports on your valley are reaching even as far as this cesspit-"

"The spider does good work." Harry interrupted. The Hand bowed his head in agreement.

"He says that you have taught the people to read and write; that you are building many buildings and selling land." Harry shook his head.

"Not too good a work then. The land is mine Lord Arryn, I am leasing it to the farmers, my maester has assured me I have broken no laws in doing this."

"Leasing? Well I suppose a technicality then, they are your lands and you may treat them as you wish so long as they remain owned by the House which sits in the valley." The lord of the Vale nodded his head and then stroked his beard. "But land is one of a lords primary forms of wealth, why compromise that?"

"In order to create an incentive for the farmers to produce more and to reduce the amount of people working the land. On my arrival I found almost half the population of the valley were farmers, with such a large proportion of the population dedicated only to the production of subsistence the valley could not prosper."

"So you want fewer people tending the land?" The Arryn stoked his beard in thought. "But then you would have less food and fewer jobs." Harry bowed his head.

"The jobs were easily replaced with those less interested in farming moving on to trades or further education. I am currently funding a few individuals to learn trades in places such as Kings Landing and for some of the more adept individuals I am funding their own inventive pursuits. This is the key to the second problem, I have been working closely with some farmers and blacksmiths to produce new farming tools such as ploughs. With this and other cooperative measures it seems plausible that fewer people will be able to properly tender the leased land. Those individuals then are able to slowly acquire a return and pay off the loan I gave them to lease the land."

"I need more drink." Grumbled Redfort. The well groomed older lord climbed from his chair and filled his cup behind Harry. "You're a strange lord Peverell. Loaning small folk money to take your land off you." Harry shrugged at the man.

"It is interesting, radical even. And so I feel that I need caution you. As with most young people you may disregard the warnings of a cynical old man, Ned and Robert certainly made a habit of it, but I will give them anyway. Some will view your ways as threatening, that if you empower the people too much they may begin grumbling about revolutions like those that took place so long ago in Essos. Do not do too much too fast, or if you do, make sure nobody finds out." Harry nodded at the Arryns words, understanding the position that some lords of Westeros may take to him.

"Thank you for your warning my lord. But to those lords I would say, perhaps they would feel more secure if they were better lords. The people have no need to rebel against a lord they respect." Both the lords suddenly burst out in laughter, slamming their cups on the desk. Harry was genuinely perplexed, he did not think what he had said to be that funny.

"Too right Harry." Said Jon, gasping for breath. "Though they might not find as much humour in that statement as we have."

-Break-

The next day was the day of the feast. The red keep was almost completely transformed when Harry arrived. The doors were wide open with guards stationed across the portal stopping any riff-raff from crashing to party. The closest one to Harry nodded his head as the wizard passed. Within the courtyard where the feast was to be held giant tables had been erected in parallel rows and at the far end nearest to the entrance to the keep proper a raised table stood, the king and his family were sat there, surrounded by the king's guard. The courtyard was decorated with bright plants and flowers and the first fruits of the season were laid high upon all the tables.

Harry made his way through the tables towards the King and upon arrival at the table Harry bowed to one knee.

"Lord Harry Peverell, your grace." Called the herald standing below the table in the yellow and black colours of House Baratheon. Harry stood again and observed the King and his family. The queen sitting to the left was as stoic as ever and appeared bored by the gathering and even more by her husband. To the kings right sat a small blond boy who appeared to be concentrating hard on his food and not on the small blond haired man sitting next to him.

Harry had heard of this man, the Queen's younger brother, Tyrion 'the Imp' Lannister. People did not speak highly of the Lannister's youngest son, the butt of many jokes. The westerosi did not take kindly to difference.

The last member of the table was a black haired man on the other side of the Queen. He was dressed well in the yellow and black and held himself with some confidence. Harry assumed this man was the King's younger brother Renly.

"Peverell!" The King greeted enthusiastically. "Welcome, welcome!" 

"Thank you for your hospitality your grace."

"Yes yes." The King waved his thanks away. "I'll find you later so we can have a drink and reminisce on the fall of the King of the Iron Islands. But for now I have to keep greeting these stuffy lords and ladies." Harry grinned at the King and moved away to where he saw the group of Vale lords.

The feast continued with merriment and entertainment as the drink flowed the Vale lords got rowdier and rowdier, making jokes and molesting the servants. Eventually Harry decided that it got too rowdy for him and he went to explore the gardens. Eventually the wizard found himself in a quiet patio overlooking the city. You could see all the way to Flee Bottom.

Harry sat there for some time before he heard footsteps in the gravel. Harry turned to see a young girl, about fifteen walking through the garden, looking lost. The girl was average size, skinny, with brown slightly curly hair. She had a pretty face with a marginally upturned nose and slight smile despite her confused expression. Her big brown eyes then landed on Harry.

"Hello?" Her voice was high pitched as all young girls but had a melodic and proper tone to it. Harry stood up and waited for her to approach. He bowed slightly to the young lady and introduced himself.

"Harry Peverell."

"Lord Peverell." She curtseyed in a highly practiced manner. "I am Margaery Tyrell. A pleasure to meet you."

"And you Lady Tyrell. You appear to be lost." She smiled charmingly at him and took one of the seats under the marquee.

"Not any more I'm not." She waved at Harry to sit. "I was looking for someone but I've found somebody more interesting."

"Oh? I'm interesting to the daughter of Highgarden?" Harry took the seat across from Margaery.

"You have impressed our king greatly with your heroics in the rebellion. A true war hero that they are already singing songs about. How could I not be interested?" Harry shrugged in response, looking a bit bashful at the praise. After all this time he was still uncomfortable with attention. "Why are you here and not at the feast?"

"Would you like the truthful or the tactful answer?" Harry asked in reply.

"The truthful one of course." Margaery answered in a tone that showed she thought the answer obvious.

"Very well but first we make a pact. In this conversation we shall only be truthful with each other." Harry held out his hand for the girl to shake. After a few seconds of consideration she gently placed her hand in his and smiled an agreement. "In truth I was not raised in the ways of Westeros, so the free boisterousness that such events eventually deteriorate into can make me uncomfortable."

"I see." She responded simply.

"I have heard of you too. That you are a charitable lady beloved by the people of Highgarden." Said Harry; changing the subject. Margaery blushed lightly at the praise and looked away, towards the city below.

"It is easy to give when you have much my lord."

"Harry, please call me Harry." The lady of the Reach smiled brightly at that and nodded her head. "And I disagree, it is easy to give some things if you have a lot of it but there are some things that are hard to give, but often they are also the most important."

"A philosopher too." Margaery rebuked, grinning at him while tucking her hair behind her ear in an endearing manner. "So what is it that is hard to give even if you have a lot of it?"

"Opportunity." The word wiped the amused expression from the teen's face. "There is a saying from where I come from. 'Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day, teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.' You have food a plenty in the Reach and so it is easy to give it away, but to give your people the opportunity to not need that charity is much harder."

"But without the fish he might starve before he learns." Harry then started laughing, harder than he had in some time. The reply was just so simple and to the point that he couldn't help but find much amusement in it.

"True my lady, very true. But the point still remains. My thinking is that no person should be seen as inherently lower than another and they should be afforded the opportunity to do whatever it is they are most suited to." Margaery had a pensive look on her face as she considered his words.

"I was raised as a lady, to be a lady." She eventually replied. "The system of lords and ladies is all I have known…"

"What would you be if you could be anything you wanted?" Harry asked softly.

"Grandmother would admonish such thinking, 'the betterment of your position should always be your priority'." She quoted, only for a cheeky grin to spread across her face. "But grandma isn't here is she?" She paused slightly to think and then appeared to come across an answer. "I suppose I would like to be a painter, or perhaps run an orphanage."

"A good answer. Now if you would remember our pact I would ask you a question." Margaery's expression grew serious at his tone. "What is your aspiration, your ultimate goal?" The girl took substantially more time to think on this question, a pensive aura settling on the pavilion. Eventually she answered.

"I suppose that I would like to be queen. My father is quite set on the idea." Harry looked away then, he wasn't sure if he was disappointed in the answer, he shouldn't be as he had expected it, but for some reason it still didn't sit well with him.

"And what would you do if you were queen?"

"I suppose I should like to help the people." Harry nodded at the answer and then looked sharply at the girl.

"Robert will never divorce Cersei though. He has no love for her but from what I hear he does not spend much time with her anyway. To insult the Lannisters would be much more trouble than it is worth. I am afraid that while Robert is king your aspirations are out of reach."

"So if you know better my lord then what should I do?" He seemed to have insulted her with his rebuke.

"I am sorry if I have caused offense, I was too blunt perhaps." Harry smiled apologetically. "I do not know what you should do, you are a Tyrell, you could do almost anything you wanted and nobody would refuse you."

"Then I guess there is only one thing for it." The girl suddenly looked very determined, her eyes hardening and her mouth pursed. "I'll just have to marry you." Harry almost fell off his chair at the declaration.

"M-me? No, no, no. I am a minor lord of a cold poor river valley. You are a Tyrell. It would never happen." 

"We have heard of you in Highgarden, we helped the citadel pay for your printing press. They say you are a genius, a once in a life time intellect. That is why I sought you out today once I found out you were here. Such a person is worth meeting and since talking with you I have made up my mind. You will change the seven kingdoms Harry, in some ways you already have. If I cannot be queen then I wish to join in your adventure. I want to change this place for the better; my family says that my duty is to improve their standing. They think it should be done through aspiration and standing. But you don't have to be a king or queen to be well remembered."

Harry fiddled with his clothing as he considered what she was saying. He knew it was customary in Westeros to marry young, life was short here and childbirth difficult, but it was an uncomfortable topic for him at this age. Back on earth he had never even had a girlfriend so to be married at twenty was an otherworldly concept to him. At the same time he was a lord now and he knew it was expected of him, he would have to get used to the idea.

"I thank you for your consideration. However it is likely your family will not agree."

"They will. All we would need to do is convince my grandmother." Harry fidgeted some more, she sure was an insistent one. Harry stood up then and bowed to the brown haired beauty, and Harry could not deny that she was a beauty.

"Lady Margaery, I thank you for your proposal. Please understand that this is all very new to me and I will need to think on the offer."

"I understand." She smiled up at him from her seat. "But understand this. I will marry you someday Harry. As you said, nobody will deny me what ever it is a want and I want you." Harry almost tripped as he moved to walk away at the bold declaration.

"Until we meet again." And with that he made his escape.


End file.
